A Game of Flirting
by Baker-Street-Potter-Head
Summary: Molly Hooper is done with waiting. She wants Sherlock, and she is getting nowhere just waiting around. Sherlock doesn't know why. He just wants Molly. Let the games begin… xx Please Note: Rated M! :) xx
1. First Touches

_Hello everybody! Here's my new chapter Fanfiction called A Game of Flirting! No need to explain what it's about as you can tell. I am putting this as humour as well, but whether it's funny or not...I dunno. Hopefully, you'll like it so…here's the first chapter…_

While working another long shift at St. Bart's Hospital, Molly Hooper was fed up and frustrated. The gorgeous object of her frustrations was sitting just opposite her, peering delicately through the microscope, turning the screws on the sides. Molly chewed her bottom lip, watching him. **What I wouldn't give to be that microscope. **She sighed swivelling in her stool. Sherlock Holmes didn't even look up from his work as she loudly made her way across the room to collect some equipment. She was fed up. **You will notice me, Sherlock Holmes. **She had loved and lusted after this man for many years and it was beginning to show. She would stay behind after hours just to allow him to finish a case, she would allow him to conduct his deductions on her and she would allow him to take advantage of her kindness. She secretly loved how excited he got once he had solved a case. Molly realises how pathetic he makes her and she doesn't care. All she wants is Sherlock Holmes. On some level, Molly knew Sherlock wouldn't be so gentle and proper behind closed doors. The thought made Molly shiver…

"Molly, please refrain from staring, it is very distracting," Sherlock's voice sounded from across the room, sounding very annoyed and very sexy.

Molly dropped the beaker she was holding. Sometimes, she really hated her clumsiness. Bending down to pick up the beaker, she was suddenly aware Sherlock was next to her, helping her clear up her mess. Like whenever he was in close contact with her, Molly blushed furiously. Sherlock rolled his eyes and straightened up.

"I do wish you'd be careful. You are going to hurt yourself one of these days," he looked concerned as he studied her.

"Stop doing that," she squeaked, wishing she had more confidence when it came to Sherlock. He frowned slightly.

"Stop doing what, exactly?" He folded his arms defensively.

"That! Like you're reading me. Studying me like one of your damned cases," she replied, a sudden rush of adrenaline kicking her shyness momentarily away. Sherlock blinked a couple of times before nodding.

"Right, sorry. It's a force of habit," he gave a small smile and walked back to his lab table looking slightly defeated. Curiosity got the better of Molly.

"What did you find?" she said, subconsciously rubbing her hands together. Sherlock slowly turned to face her. He licked his lips and smirked. Molly sighed. **You are just too damn beautiful.**

"You left for work in a hurry this morning; this is strange as you were clearly up early enough. You no doubt spent too much time choosing an outfit that was both professional and flattering. You reduced your shower time by approximately 5 minutes. This is evident by your hair smelling only faintly of strawberries instead of the usually distinctive aroma," he had moved to stand in front of her and was practically whispering it into her ear, "the outfit you decided to wear, a tight fitting shirt, shorter than usual skirt and high heels, suggests a meeting with management. They offered you the position of Head of the Pathology lab and last but certainly not least, your hair…is down. My favourite way if I may say so."

Molly wasn't aware she had closed her eyes and was just listening to his lovely voice, sighing happily. His breath was warm on her face and she wanted nothing more than to push him backwards and mount him. He had been stroking her arm and was now humming lightly. Suddenly, the doors to the lab swung open and a very disgruntled John Watson wandered through the door.

"Half-past bloody ten and not a _single _nurse around. They do have night shifts here, don't they? Oh well, at least I got a coffee," John rambled, holding up a steaming hot cup of coffee.

John was too busy engrossed in his tale of how he had been rejected by every nurse in the Hospital, that he failed to notice, upon entering, how close Sherlock and Molly had been standing to each other, how they had jumped apart when he had entered and how they both seemed to be rather breathless. Sherlock nodded and grunted in response to John's questions and went back to his bench, shooting a glance towards Molly who had resumed her seat at her desk. She was looking back at him.

"What did I miss?" John asked, pointing at the microscope. Due to the fact Sherlock was staring at Molly, he missed the question.

"Hmmm?" Sherlock turned to John who frowned.

"What did I miss, Sherlock? Did you do it?" John asked somewhat suspiciously. Sherlock thought for a moment.

"Chance would be a fine thing," Sherlock replied, his mind on something other than the case entirely. John patted him on the shoulder.

"You'll get eventually, mate, you always do," John encouraged, drinking his coffee and sitting on the unoccupied stool next to the detective.

Sherlock nodded and smirked to himself. **I am glad to hear you say that, Doctor Watson, because I am thinking the exact same thing. **Sherlock looked through the microscope but saw nothing but the pathologist. She was burned on his memory and Sherlock realised, with a jolt, he wanted to spend his time conducting his own private experiments that involved himself, Molly and various items and rooms in 221B, her flat and the Hospital. He repressed a shiver of anticipation and watched as she sucked the end of her pen. **Is she doing this on purpose? **Sherlock turned away, burning desire had overcome him. This was all a game…and one he was not about to lose. He wanted her and she wanted him, and Sherlock was determined to make her give in first.

On the other side of the room, Molly looked over at Sherlock several times to see him desperately trying to concentrate on his work. He was definitely aware of her now. She smiled to herself and traced the outline of her lips with her tongue, unaware she was driving a certain detective wild. Molly didn't know what he was trying to do before John came into the morgue, but she was sure he was about to ask for some parts or an entire body, judging by the intensity of it. She deflated a little at this thought. **This is a game to him. Well, if he wants to play…he has no idea what he's in for. I'll have him begging for me before the end of the month.** They caught each other's gaze for a moment, each said 'come and get me' and each resisted. Sherlock made a silent promise it would take him only a week before Molly was in his bed, screaming for him…

_Ok, I have had this little idea for a while and I've only just got around to writing it up. I hope you liked this and will keep reading :D xx See you soon and I promise not to keep you waiting too long (assuming you want another chapter) xx_


	2. Texts at Night

_Hello everyone. Well, I'm back with chapter 2 ;p xx Thank you all so much for taking the time to read and each of your reviews is like a giant hug, I am so HAPPY you like it. You guys are the best xx There are plenty more to come so if you like it please let me know, it is much appreciated. xx Here's 2…_

Sherlock couldn't sleep that night. He and John had returned from St. Bart's with not a single piece of new evidence to go on and the case was proving tedious now, rather than promising. To make matters worse, John had insisted they share a cab with Molly. He didn't protest, even though being pressed against her in a tight cab was absolute torture, not to mention the inviting looks she kept throwing his way. John remained as oblivious as ever, chatting to the driver about something the other two were otherwise too busy to care about. Once she had left, Sherlock silently celebrated his restraint. It was not going to be that easy, for either of them…

Sherlock tossed and turned in his bed, cursing the woman who refused to leave his head and his dreams. After a particularly passionate dream – it was on the morgue floor, this time – Sherlock awoke, panting and sweating slightly. Swearing under his breath, Sherlock removed himself from his sheets and wandered into the living room. He was not expecting to find John at his laptop, but there he was, watching one of his 'special videos' again. Sherlock shook his head with a sigh.

"What time is it?"

Sherlock's question caused John to jump in fright and slam his laptop closed. He looked around wildly and squinted at the dark figure lying on the sofa. After a moment of shocked silence, John answered him, putting as much annoyance in his tone as he could muster.

"It's half 1. You know, you could…announce yourself before walking into a dark room in the dead of night. What are you doing up, anyway?"

Sherlock smirked at his choice of phrase and chose to ignore him. John grunted in annoyance and flicked on the lamp switch, covering 221B in a surprisingly bright light. John noticed Sherlock was in his pyjamas, at his place on the sofa deep in thought, eyes closed and hands clasped under his chin. John leant back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He pushed his chair back and was intending to go to bed. Someone on the end of his phone had other ideas.

"That's weird," John frowned at his phone with a slight smirk on his face. Sherlock, still in his meditative thought process, didn't say anything. John continued, fully aware Sherlock was probably not even listening, his voice now resembling amusement.

"It's from Molly. Apparently she's, and I quote, 'feeling very horny and I need help. What should I do?'"

Sherlock snapped his eyes open, all concentration lost. Not that he had it fully in the first place; Molly had still managed to break through somehow. Chuckling to himself, John read the text a few more times to see if he had actually read it correctly. Over on the sofa, however, Sherlock discovered, with a devilish smirk, he had calculated exactly 14 suggestions of just what exactly Molly could 'do' and how he could 'help'. Not a single one he could repeat to John. Sherlock didn't say anything, but watched as John's expression changed from delighted to disappointment in a matter of seconds as he received another text message. A few moments of silence followed as John read the text.

"What does she say?" Sherlock snapped angrily, urgently trying to maintain his composure. John shot him a startled look. **Well, what's up with him?**

"Uh…she put 'whoopsie, I meant hungry lol x'."

John looked let down as he replied with a suggestion of Chinese. He, himself, often got hungry early in the morning and he found Chinese food to be an excellent filler. Sherlock smirked to himself as he turned away from John, knowing full well that Molly hadn't mistyped at all…

Molly smiled brightly as she imagined Sherlock desperately trying not to think of her as John read out her 'accidental' text. She was _certain_ it was only a matter of time before he was knocking on her door and…well, 'giving in'. Texting John was a better idea than the man himself. It was dangerous...Molly wished she could have seen his face. As she sat in her living room, stroking Toby, she thought about whose hair she'd rather be running her fingers through. She slouched backwards in frustration, her spirit dampened by the sudden feeling of desire that had overcome her. She wanted to go to 221B in that moment and forget they were in the middle of an intense game of strategy and skill that neither were willing to lose. **This isn't as easy as I thought it was going to be.**

Soon after the 'phone incident', John decided he wasn't getting any more conversation from the now completely still detective. John paused. **Is he asleep? Well, he can bloody well stay there, I am not carrying him to his room. Let him get a stiff neck. **John trudged back to his room, exhausted with sleep. Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, waiting until he heard John's soft snoring, before reaching for his phone.

_That was an underhand, devious and surprisingly effective move, Miss Hooper SH_

Sherlock tapped his phone against his knee as he waited impatiently for her reply.

_You haven't seen anything yet, Mr. Holmes Mollyx_

Sherlock held his breath momentarily. He mustered all his concentration as he tapped in his response.

_You seem convincingly confident yet I believe it would not be the case if left alone with temptation for too long SH_

He could almost hear her seductive smirk and tiny chuckle as she returned the message.

_Right back at you, Mr. Holmes Mollyx_

This was enough for Sherlock. She was taunting him…threatening him to test his willpower. She would be the first to give up and he would make sure of it…

_I'll be over in 15 minutes SH_

He wondered what repercussions this would have but, as he read her reply, he decided he did not care in the slightest.

_If you think you can handle it…I'll be waiting Mollyx_

_Well, well, well, things are certainly getting…intense. xx Please let me know what you think, your comments are like giant hugs to me. I hope you liked it and be pleased to know this isn't over…far from it ;D xx_


	3. After Dark Encounter

_Welcome back, everyone. Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, they keep me going so it's great to see you like the story. I hope you like this one ;p Anyway, let's get back to the game, shall we? ;)_

"Where is it? I know it is here somewhere."

Sherlock was frantically searching around the flat for something, desperately trying not to wake John. He glanced at his watch and huffed in frustration, pulling cushions out of the sofa in desperation. A few more seconds of thorough searching, Sherlock let out a silent cheer as he held a tiny bottle in front of him. He happily pocketed and grabbed his coat, rushing from the flat none to quietly. The sound of the front door slamming resonated around the flat, waking John. He blinked a few times, before yawning and stretching. Moving into the living room, John was startled to see the furniture out of place and Sherlock's bedroom door ajar. That room was also a mess; clothes were thrown haphazardly around and the pyjamas he had been wearing the last time John had seen him were strewn across the floor as if they had been removed in a hurry. **Where the hell could Sherlock have gone at 2:00am? Oh, who gives a crap, I need some sleep. **John's eyes were itching with tiredness and thought nothing more of the strange behaviour of his flatmate, for the time being at least.

It couldn't have been that easy. Could it? The facts of the matter were that Sherlock Holmes, the man who was unattainable, unattached and just happened to be the man she had loved for years, was on his way to Molly Hooper's flat. At 2:00am. It sounded a lot like the game was over, and Molly was victorious. Soon, she will have what she has always wanted…Sherlock giving into her. She looked at the clock for the tenth time and realised he was running late. 10 minutes, to be precise. **Is he just messing with my head? Trying to break my concentration with lack of sleep? That is…cunning. **She wasn't about to go to bed just yet; it was lucky Molly was on the later shift tomorrow. A knock at the door sounded, pulling her from her thoughts. She smiled slyly, trembling with anticipation. She got slowly to her feet and took a deep breath. She smoothed her barely-there nightdress down, admiring the way it fell and settled just above her knees, the lacy white fabric clinging to her every curve. It was a warm night so she had the excuse, but Molly hadn't worn it for comfort. She carefully moved over to her front door, preparing herself. However, no amount of organising and arranging could have readied her for what was waiting beyond the door…

Molly gasped as she opened the door to find Sherlock half-leaning, half-slumping against the frame, desperately trying to hold himself upright. Molly noticed he was bleeding, a lot, from a gash above his left eye. His eyes were half-closed and unfocused; he looked as though he had taken an awful beating. **You are such an idiot making him come here at 2 in the morning. **Shaking slightly, Molly steadied him by winding her arm around his waist and wordlessly leading him into her flat. She kicked the door closed behind her, and led Sherlock over to the sofa, sitting him down gently. Molly gently slipped his coat from his shoulders, partially aware she pressing her chest forwards a little too much as she reached behind her. She could have sworn he groaned a little as she pulled back to place his coat in the chair. Her breath caught as she saw he was wearing her favourite purple shirt. Molly must have been too busy looking around her flat for something to stop the bleeding or she would have noticed Sherlock's wandering eyes absorbing the sight of her in her nightdress.

"Stay here, I'm just going to the bathroom to get my first aid kit."

Sherlock watched her as she ran to her bathroom and secretly admired how good it felt to do so, not mention how it _looked. _She returned almost immediately, carrying a large green box with her. Molly placed it on the coffee table and sat down, making sure she was directly in front of Sherlock. He watched as she opened the clasps and pulled out several plasters and antiseptics. Sherlock had half-expected her to leave the box for him to do it himself. **Oh, no. This is much more torturous…**

Sherlock squirmed in front of her, not entirely from the pain. Having her softly dab his face clean with cotton wool, occasionally brushing her skin against his, was just too much. He held his breath, not wanting Molly to know it had increased considerably. She abandoned the cotton wool to trace her fingers over his forehead, pushing a stray curl back into place. Molly continued her fingers trail, moving downwards over his razor sharp cheekbones and stopping at his lips. She smiled and bit her lip as she took in his extremely dark eyes.

"Isn't it funny how you managed to bleed without breaking skin, Mr. Holmes?" Molly smirked. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, ignoring the fact his heart skipped a beat at the way she had said 'Mr. Holmes'. **Damn it, I thought ****_reading _****Molly type it was stimulating. **Sherlock returned her smirk, leaning forwards slightly. They were so close…so close…

"It is amazing what a little bit of fake blood and acting can do. I was thinking of increasing the pressure. A full-blown fist fight resulting in broken ribs? The thought alone of you clawing at my shirt buttons to conduct a 'medical examination' was persuading enough."

Molly watched how his lips moved when talked and loved how softly he spoke. Toby was watching them with interest, inclining his head slightly to the side at how his human mistress was practically straddling this strange man.

"Then why not carry it out?" Molly whispered. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Too easy, I do love a challenge and right now, Miss Hooper, you are proving to be an interesting test of my willpower." Molly leaned forwards even more. There foreheads were resting against each other now.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. If you could read my thoughts right now…," Sherlock practically growled back at her. Molly wanted to stay here forever. **There's no one here…no distractions…no interruptions…just the two of us and this wretched game we were playing. **Molly couldn't currently remember why they were playing this game, and she was sure he couldn't either. It was too much…the space…it was all too overwhelming. She leaned forwards even more, sitting in his lap now, and breathing heavily. Sherlock's hands rested on her hips, partly to keep her steadied. A few minutes later everything else was forgotten, the game, the consequences and the immediate aftermath…it was just the moment and the passion. Neither were sure who made the first move, but here they were hungrily and desperately kissing and devouring each other. Both pairs of hands were in the other's hair, as Sherlock rolled Molly over onto her back, not once breaking their kiss…

Sherlock jolted awake and realised he was in 221B, his phone clasped loosely in his hands. He looked at the time and discovered it was 3:26am. He shook himself awake and looked down at the unsent message…

_I'll be over in 15 minutes SH_

_Oooh, was that cruel? I am sorry...I hope you liked that chapter cause I sure as hell LOVED writing it. I really hope you guys are enjoying this xx Please review and stay tuned, lots more on the way ;D xx_


	4. Dinner Date?

_Hello again, my lovelies. Just a little warning for you: as you have pointed out for me, this story is getting a little 'heavy' I have increased the rating to M! This may just to be safe and sure but who knows…*evil scientist laugh* :D This story is just kinda doing its own thing at the moment so it could anywhere ;p Here's #4…_

**Where had that come from? I was ****_sure _****I was in control. She cannot have affected me this way. There has to be a reasonable explanation… **The harder Sherlock tried to look for this 'explanation', however, the further it seemed to slip away. Sherlock was adamant that this was not the end and he wasn't about to give up but…he couldn't stop thinking about that dream. He delighted in the way her skin had felt and how sweet she had tasted. Her concern and care of him had proved to have the desired effect, even it was just the dream. As much as Sherlock hated to admit it, he had a feeling that the real thing was going to be much more challenging. How had a dream felt so _good, _so real, even to him? He recalled how feverishly he had bitten and sucked at her lips, taking in the feeling and taste. Sherlock had no idea how long he had been sat in the same space, thinking about it but it had been a long time. It was now daylight and John had just emerged from his bedroom, yawning and rubbing his neck. He jumped when he noticed Sherlock on the sofa, wide awake and staring into space with a slight frown on his face.

"Morning," John nodded towards Sherlock who, as usual, ignored him. Either that or he hadn't heard him. "Did you get some?"

Sherlock heard this all right; it had been enough to snap him out of his trance. He turned towards John, entirely intrigued.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Breakfast, Sherlock. Have you had any yet?" He was waving a box of cereal he had just finished pouring into a bowl. Sherlock shook his head, both as a refusal and to shake the disorientation he felt. **I think I need a shower… **Sherlock stood and strode into the bathroom. Moments later, John heard the water running and shrugged, returning to his breakfast. He was rather eager to get to Bart's; he was yet to search the children's ward for nurses. John sighed as he realised his own desperation. When Sherlock reappeared, he had dressed and looked rather shaken.

"We going to Bart's today?" John tried to sound nonchalant, but Sherlock saw straight through this, of course.

"For God's sake, John, buy a magazine like other men," Sherlock snapped, grabbing his coat and rushing out of the door. John sat for a moment, feeling utterly confused, before grumpily standing and going to his bedroom to dress. **That arrogant little…shit. I'll bet he just wanted a head start on the case. If he thinks I'm staying here, he's got another thing coming…**

Sherlock angrily stamped through the halls of St. Bart's, attracting curious looks from the receptionists, and down the steps to the morgue. He strode down the halls and approached the doors to where she dwelled, his fists clenched as he neared. Sherlock silently pushed the doors open and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her scent assaulted his senses, he could taste her as if that dream had been real, he could see her twisting and writhing beneath him and it was too much. He took a deep breath and strode forwards…

Molly was working at one of the benches, with her back to the door. She sighed as she picked up a huge stack of papers, rolling her stiff shoulders. She gasped as she felt someone grab her roughly by the shoulders and spin her around, pushing her backwards into the bench. She smiled seductively when she came face to face with the consulting detective, taking note of how his arms were either side of her, trapping her there. He was breathing heavily, and he looked furious.

"What…have you done to me?" Sherlock looked lost and confused as he growled this at her. She flicked her eyes up to his and saw the effect she never knew she had on him.

"I believe the same thing you have to me" she whispered. Sherlock's eyes flitted over her. She really was perfection and it would be extremely easy to just give up. This battle for dominance, wits and willpower had become deeper as they both craved each other's bodies as well as their minds. Sherlock raised a hand and cupped her chin, his thumb tracing her lips. He took a mental note of how they parted and her eyes close. Sherlock's mind palace was filled to the brim with information and observations about Molly Hooper he was surprised there was any room left. He dropped his hands to her hips and, soon enough, they were moving to their own agenda. **This is getting slightly out of control…**

"Well, thanks a lot, mate. I had to catch a cab on my own and I forgot my…what are you doing?"

John had walked into the morgue to find Sherlock standing in front of Molly. He seemed to be stroking her cheek and he held in his hand her hairband. **Ok, I can accept the hand and hairband as some kind of experiment. But what kind of experiment requires Molly to actually ****_sit _****on that bench with her legs…like that, either side of Sherlock? I guess, this case just took an interesting turn…**

"An experiment."

Smirking, Sherlock stepped away from Molly, tossing her hairband and shooting her a subtle wink, which she returned none to subtly. As they turned away, both had the same thought enter their heads...

**It's only a matter of time…**

"Oh, come on, Sherlock. She'll only agree to it if she can bring a friend for my friend."

All afternoon, Sherlock had endured the most annoying topic of discussion: John Watson's somewhat absent love life. Until now, it seemed. Mary (or Maria?) Morstan, a paediatric nurse, had agreed to a date with John on the condition she could bring one of her friends along. Not wanting to look sad, John had naturally volunteered his flatmate for the position. The 'double date' was arranged for tonight, if Mary agreed. John had been gushing about various aspects of Mary Morstan all afternoon. John had, in fact, just returned from having spent all morning wooing the poor woman.

"Not only did you use me as an excuse to lure this poor woman to the flat but you lied to her that your intentions are honourable," Sherlock was saying, whilst peering into the microscope. Well, more like _over _the microscope to where Molly was sat.

"Please, Sherlock, all you have to do is be there. You don't even have to make conversation," John was practically begging now. Sherlock rolled his eyes. **Anything to stop this pathetic display of desperation.**

"Very well, but I will be…civil at best."

John had cheered and took his phone out to text Mary the time and location. Her reply must have been pleasant because John's smile was threatening to crack his face.

Mary Morstan was pleased when it was finally time to clock off. She left the ward she was currently assigned to and headed downstairs to the lockers. After changing, she waited outside the front entrance for her friend. She saw Molly leave from the side exit and wave towards her. Mary took a deep breath.

"I need a favour," Mary began and Molly tutted.

"It's good to see you too, Mary," Molly sighed, hauling her bag over her shoulder. "Go on, then."

"Well, I met this guy today. He seems sweet enough, and when he asked me out to a movie, at his flat…yeah, I know," she replied to Molly's raised eyebrow, "well, I didn't want to say no, so I kind of said I'd bring a friend for his flatmate. You up for it?"

This was a lot of information for Molly to get after a long day at work. She processed it for a moment. She had nothing planned, but didn't fancy spending her evening stuck with someone who she didn't know, while Mary and her date where getting cuddly. Molly groaned.

"What about Justine?"

"Justine? You want me to bring Justine the slut? That poor man," Mary giggled and Molly nodded.

"True? Oh, ok fine, I'll do it. Who's it closest to?" Molly asked Mary and she took out her phone to double check.

"You, actually. It's just around the corner," Mary smiled, as this meant she could get dressed at Molly's and borrow her clothes.

"Where exactly? Is it in walking distance?" Molly was growing impatient at her friend's vagueness.

"Baker Street, 221B, you know of it?"

"Oh, yes…yes, I know the _exact _place you're talking about." Molly was suddenly looking very forward to this evening.

Sherlock and John were sat waiting on the sofa for the women to arrive. Sherlock had dressed in his favourite purple shirt and decided to pair it with a scowl, his arms folded across his chest. John was fidgeting in his chair, unable to contain his excitement. Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh. **Who invites a woman to their flat on the first date, anyway? Not that I am considered an expert. Nevertheless, it does scream stalker…**

The buzzer sounded and John rushed to his feet and raced down the stairs. Sherlock let out another, slightly exaggerated, sigh as he got to his feet, ruffling his curls. John was laughing as he escorted the women upstairs. A tallish, blonde woman entered wearing an outfit that looked painfully familiar.

"Sherlock Holmes, this is Mary Morstan and Sherlock you'll never guess who Mary's brought with her," John was smiling like an idiot and Sherlock's heart leapt as Molly walked in through the door. While John was busy with Mary's coat, Sherlock stepped over to help Molly out of hers.

"What are you doing here?" He whispered into her ear, making it as breathy as possible. Molly smirked up at him.

"You know full well."

Sherlock pulled her coat off to find she was wearing a red dress that, of course, fitted her figure perfectly, showing how long and lean her legs really were. John was frowning at them. **That's a bit…much. **Even Mary was looking her up and down.

"Maybe it was a bit extreme after all, Mols," Mary tilted her head to the side. Sherlock, who had momentarily slipped into a trance, shook his head.

"Nonsense, it is very...," he dropped his voice so only Molly could hear, not that John and Mary were paying attention anyway, "…alluring."

"Plenty more where that came from."

She winked as she walked over to the table where John and Mary were now sat. Molly made sure to swing her hips more than usual as she became aware she was being watched. Mary was wondering if Molly had injured her leg on something but decided not to mention it. Meanwhile, Sherlock suppressed a shiver as he walked over to the table and sat opposite Molly. Sherlock smirked to himself as he caught her eye, both harbouring the most inappropriate of thoughts. **I wouldn't worry, Doctor Morstan. That dress you are so concerned about will soon be adorning my bedroom floor in a most untidy and impatient fashion… **

_Tee-hee, I liked writing this one. Please review and note the rating increase, (like I said, it may just be a warning but who knows with these two, eh?) xx Ok, let me know what you thought and stay tuned. I'll be back real soon ;p xx_


	5. Bathrooms

_Hiya, everyone. Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews and I am glad to see you are enjoying this story ;D That last chapter was…unexpected. It just came to me, and luckily I know just how to follow it…_

This was the single most uncomfortable moment of John Watson's life. He was sitting next to his best friend, opposite his new date and _her _best friend, and he didn't have a clue what to say. Sherlock, however, seemed to be having an entire conversation with Molly, although nothing was being said. Thankfully, the buzzer sounded and John ran to answer it, grabbing his wallet on the way out. Sherlock frowned. **John did not inform me we would be eating as well. **John reappeared a moment later carrying a large pizza box.

"Sherlock, are you eating today?" John had gone over to a cupboard and was rooting around for plates, avoiding the various items or body parts his flatmate had stored.

"No," Sherlock was too busy staring at the wonderful sight in front of him to care too much about what John had actually said. John shook his head, removing three plates from the cupboard and, quickly examining them, brought them over to the table.

They ate quickly and silently, one couple nervously avoiding each other's gaze and the other couple locked in some sort of staring competition. Mary was the first to break the tension filled silence.

"So, Sherlock, what do you do? I've seen you come in and out of Bart's now and again. Actually, it's been quite a lot lately," Mary took a sip of her wine as she watched Sherlock curiously. Sherlock raised his eyebrows as Molly looked down, smirking. John rubbed his temple.

"Look, you really don't want to know," He began, but Mary had already done it. There was no stopping Sherlock now.

"I am a consulting detective. I am not surprised you have never heard of it. I invented the job, it is…," Sherlock faltered as he felt something settle itself at the bottom of his leg. He glanced at Molly who had a devious smirk on her face, but was looking at her plate. **Oh, she wouldn't. It is already hard enough to deduce when she is around. **It was clear that she was daring as her foot massaged circles around his leg. Receiving questioning looks from John and Mary, he cleared his throat. "I…its when the police are…need help with cases they call me in."

Molly's foot crept higher and higher with each word while Sherlock tried to focus. Mary nodded, fascinated.

"Why would they do that? You know, use someone who has no idea?"

Sherlock swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and Molly shot him a sly look of triumph. He turned towards Mary, trying to ignore the blissful feeling Molly was bringing whilst maintaining his composure.

"Mmm…you decided to become a paediatric nurse after a childhood trauma caused a family members death, possibly your sister, you never got over it and wanted to give back, that ring your wearing on your left index finger was from your father, he left shortly after the incident, you cling to the hope that one day he will come back, your mother is an alcoholic, probably why you have hardly touched your own drink, the lack of a father figure in your life explains why you feel the need to 'fill the void' by having endless streams of flings and one night stands to find a potential mate, someone who cannot leave you."

Sherlock spoke hurriedly, forcing John and Mary to really listen to make sense of what he was saying. Molly was shaking with the struggle to contain her laughter and dropped her leg as soon as he finished his deduction. John anxiously awaited Mary's response, trying to pretend he had not heard the 'endless streams of one night stands' part. Mary stared open mouthed for a moment before putting her glass down. Sherlock was, of course, right; it had hardly been touched.

"You got all that just from looking at me?"

Sherlock nodded, to breathless to speak. Molly leaned back in her chair and began twirling her hair between her fingers. **Oh, she is tormenting me. **As they relaxed for a moment, Sherlock attempted, and failed, to not think about all the ways in which he would have Molly. It was now getting out of hand. **It is only a matter of time before this 'game' concludes and when it does…it will be explosive. That I can be sure of.**

John ushered them into the front room and the four of them squashed together on the sofa. Mary and Molly had selected The Holiday. It was a romantic comedy, and apparently both women's favourite film. John rested his head on his hand as he watched Mary laugh, cry and drool over this, in his opinion, 'pile of crap'. Sherlock was pressed against the edge of the sofa…and Molly. It was unbearable. He couldn't move without brushing against her in some way. It was now half an hour through' John was thoroughly enjoying himself now, his arm was wrapped around Mary and he even seemed to appreciate the movie. Sherlock, who desperately avoided moving all night, had developed a cramp in his arm. He lifted his right arm, which was resting by his side, and brought it down to stretch it. Unfortunately, one of the buttons caught on the way down…on Molly's dress. On her zip, at the back of her dress. **This has to be some kind of joke.**

"Um, Molly, my button is caught. Could you…help?"

Molly looked around as Sherlock had whispered in her ear. She gave him a suggestive smile before leaning forward. He started gently pulling at the button, leaning forward, also. It was no use.

"Look, it clearly isn't working. Just, pull it down and…I don't know," she wasn't being much help, probably because she was still trying to watch the film. Sherlock sighed frustratedly. John glanced past Mary's shoulder and furrowed his brow.

"Oi, what are you doing?"

"I'm stuck," Sherlock growled, annoyed at John's idiocy. John rolled his eyes.

"There's scissors in the bathroom, just shhhh," John pressed his fingers to his lips and turned back to the TV. Sherlock swallowed. He didn't trust himself to be alone with Molly in this position. He was certain their game would cease right there on the bathroom floor…

"Can you not do it?"

"Sherlock! I'm a little busy," John inclined his head to the side towards Mary, who was engrossed in the movie. Sherlock searched around the room, as if looking for a way out. Molly stood up suddenly, pulling Sherlock with her, silently walking to the bathroom. Neither John or Mary noticed them leave.

"This is seriously the only place you keep scissors?"

They had arrived at the bathroom door. Molly was glancing around, taking in the details. It was surprisingly tidy, probably because John was the one who spent most of time here. Molly spied the scissors on the side, and picked them up.

"Here," she reached over her shoulder and waited for him to receive them. When he didn't take them, she peered over her shoulder. "Well?"

Sherlock shook his head and Molly frowned.

"I don't need them," he whispered as he stepped away from her to close the bathroom door. He walked back over to her. "I needed to…get you away from them."

Molly's heart was hammering. **Is this it? Is this the moment? **She felt his warm hands at the back of dress, his fingers resting on her zip.

"It is rather warm in here," he commented in his seductive voice, his breath tickling her neck and giving her goose bumps. All Molly could do was nod as Sherlock's fingers worked their way down slowly, revealing her bare back to him. His hands traced her spine softly, causing Molly to shiver. Her hand had reached behind her to play with his hair. Sherlock was contemplating if the rest of her skin felt as good as her back, as his hands rested flat against her skin, smoothing circles up and down her sides. Molly's eyes fluttered closed and she leaned back, her head resting against his shoulder. **God, he's good with his hands. **A knock at the door, brought them back to reality.

"Sherlock, you in there?" John rattled the handle and pulled it. Quick as a flash, Sherlock pulled Molly's zip back up and spun around, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt. Thankfully, John had been knocking back various drinks all night, and was slightly tipsy. He entered the room and, ignoring Sherlock's ruffled hair and Molly's flaming red cheeks, began speaking in a frantic tone.

"The movie's finished, we should walk the ladies home," John had grabbed Sherlock's arm and was pulling him out of the room. They reached the front room; Mary was already set to leave. John grabbed his coat and threw Sherlock and Molly theirs.

"Actually, you two go on ahead. There's still something I need to…do," Sherlock glanced at Molly, his expression lustful. Molly returned the look, equally willing.

"What? Do it when you get back. It'll be too late otherwise, Molly's flat is only around the corner," John was impatiently trying to push them out of the door. Molly tried to protest that it was fine with her but John wasn't listening. Once out in the street, John insisted on, after seeing Mary off, following Sherlock and Molly to her flat.

"Molly, can I use your bathroom?"

John looked desperate so Molly agreed with a sigh. **That teaches you to drink that much. **She and Sherlock were alone again. She took a deep breath.

"I would invite you inside but…," she nodded behind and Sherlock huffed.

"And I would accept your invitation without hesitation," Sherlock replied, the hint of a smirk on his face. Molly rolled her eyes but decided to return his double entendre.

"I'll bet you would." Sherlock caught her eye and there was no hiding the smirk now.

"That dress…may I just say how much I approve?" Sherlock's gaze flitted over her once more, none too subtly. Molly positively beamed.

"I think your actions in the bathroom suggested as much," Molly whispered leaning in slightly. Just as Sherlock considered throwing her against the nearest surface and ravishing her, John emerged from the bathroom. Sherlock sighed heavily, shifting on his feet.

"Thanks, Mol. See you later," John patted her on the shoulder as he walked past. Sherlock shook his dismissively and Molly smiled.

"Goodnight, John," she looked at Sherlock, "bye."

She spoke the last word softly and affectionately. Sherlock nodded.

"Goodnight, Molly."

She smiled and closed the door behind her. Sherlock whipped around to face John, a furious look on his face. John frowned, looking rather confused.

"What?"

_Oh, John and his interruptions. I do hope you liked that one. xx Please review and, as always, stay tuned. Back soon :D xx_


	6. Heat

_Hello everyone, it's that time again. I just cannot stay away from this one (good job college is almost over! ;p). I am so overwhelmed by how much you seem to love this fic! I really am so happy to see so many people love it, it really does keep me writing. Thank you so much for everything, I love you guys :') xx Now, here's chapter 6, I hope you like it…_

It wasn't until the following morning that John Watson noticed something was…off about his flatmate. The walk back from Molly's flat had seemed fine at the time, but John was slightly drunk. He didn't even pay attention to how Sherlock was pointedly ignoring his every spoken thought, or how every so often he shot a dark scowl his direction. Now he was fully sober, however, this seemed odd behaviour even for Sherlock Holmes. He strode into the flat cautiously that morning, exhaling slightly when he saw Sherlock was absent from his usual spot on the sofa. This was unusual…

John shrugged this thought aside and made his usual breakfast. He saw a slip of paper on the side counter next to the kettle. Curious, he turned it over and a smile crept onto his face.

_I didn't get a chance to give you my number, Mary xox_

Not keen to waste any more time, John whipped his phone from the table and dialled the number.

"Hello?"

"Mary? Hi, its John. I had a lovely time last night. I was just wondering if you're free tonight?"

He could hear her hesitation at the other end. **Oh my god, that sounded so sad and desperate.**

"I'd love to but…I'm worried about Molly. I think I might pay her a visit, I haven't seen her since last night. It's strange for her, she usually likes to text me before I start my shift," Mary sounded anxious and John bit his lip.

"That is so weird. I haven't seen Sherlock since last night and he was acting strange. Maybe, there's a connection…," John thought aloud and Mary gasped.

"What if they're…you know…," Mary was trying to respect her friend's dignity but John was not good at hints.

"Maybe they're what?"

"Shagging, John," Mary bluntly delivered, and John actually laughed out loud.

"Sherlock? I don't think so…"

"Well, they did seem cosy, last night."

John could almost hear her smirking and he had to think for a moment. His eyes widened as realisation dawned on him. **OH! They were in that bathroom longer than needed to remove a button. Did I…interrupt them? **He shook his head. **Don't be insane.** Nevertheless, he decided to give Mary the benefit of the doubt.

"Ok, then. I assume you have a plan?"

This time, Mary actually did chuckle slightly. John couldn't shake the fact he had a bad feeling about this entire thing.

Molly yawned and sat up in her bed, stretching and rubbing her eyes. Her peaceful mood was shattered almost instantly when she remembered last night. **Oh my god! Oh my god! We came this close…I was going to…what the hell was he playing at? If that was a taste of what's to come…oh, dear god! **She buried her face in her hands and closed her eyes tight. She was flooded by an onslaught of images of Sherlock entwined around her, his hands working their magic everywhere they could reach and Molly was responding with such enthusiasm she was sure they would dent the floor. It was heaven and she wanted it more than ever. Her alarm broke the quiet stillness of her figure. She didn't want to go to work, she would come face to face with _him _and the overwhelming urge to throw him against…something, _anything _and play out every fantasy she had ever had.

"Ah, Molly. I was wondering where you had got to."

Sherlock's deep voice sounded as she swung the doors to the morgue open. She stood still for a moment, expecting someone to rush in at any moment; that was typical when they were alone. And alone they were, alone and very public… No matter the situation, she smirked Sherlock's most favourite smirk.

"That was expert, Mr. Holmes. Very professional, I approve," Molly was sliding towards him. Sherlock's own lips twitched into a smirk.

"I can assure _you_, Miss Hooper, that was nothing compared to what was coming," Sherlock was also stepping closer. Molly held her breath as his hand came to her hair and pulled the band loose. There was a moment where neither spoke; Sherlock brushed Molly's hair behind her shoulders and she gripped the lapels of his coat to keep from collapsing.

"This…'game' of ours. I am growing tired of it." Sherlock lifted her once more onto the lab bench behind her. Molly smiled down at him.

"Is this you giving up, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock sighed in frustration.

"You want to play? Fine, I can handle the pressure," Sherlock sounded less and less sure with every breath he took, looking at her in front of him. He placed his hands either side of the table. He suddenly had an idea. "But you? Anything else, like last night and I don't think you'll last much longer."

Molly mentally kicked herself. **He had been seconds from giving up…and you go and open your big mouth. YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HAVING SEX NOW!**

"Oh, come on, you want me as much as I want you!" Molly couldn't stop herself now. She didn't care where she was, or if anyone heard her and from the look on Sherlock's face, he didn't either. Molly had the sudden, exhilarating feeling of confidence. Ever so slowly, she placed her hands on his chest, and brought them up and under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He copied her movements with her lab coat.

"You are my addiction, I cannot get enough," he breathed and Molly was so shocked she forgot to breathe for a moment. Her hands instinctively went to his shirt buttons…

"And here we have the morgue…," Mike Stamford's voice came from outside the doors. It was too late there was nothing they could do. Sherlock closed and mentally cursed everyone on the planet's ability to annoy him. Molly was too irritated to be embarrassed.

Mike Stamford and some senior staff members exchanged shocked glances and looked at the frustrated couple. From ruffled hair, undone buttons and discarded jackets. The eldest member of the hospital board stepped forwards, looking between the two of them.

"Before I sack you both on the spot, would you care to explain what is going on?"

Sherlock smiled a huge fake smile.

"Ah, doctor. My wife and I were about to have sex. I would invite you to stay but with your heart condition I would not recommend it."

Everybody's mouths in the room fell open, except for Molly who just smiled widely. Sherlock and Molly stood there for a moment. The eldest member looked at them.

"I cannot sack the Head of the Pathology lab without good cause and I do not want this down on file. I, therefore, have an alternative suggestion. The two of you are to attend a session on workplace sexual harassment."

Molly's eyes widened. **Well, it's better than getting the sack I suppose, not that we were doing anything to be sacked about.**

Sherlock, however, only had one thought, for once. **I do not even work here, but spending the time with Molly exchanging innuendos and double entendres? This might just be fun...**

Unbeknownst to the detective and pathologist, John and Mary were sniggering and exchanging high fives. **Teaches them to lie to us…**

_Lol…so much cockblock in this story! I hope you liked that one…xx plenty more where that came from so stay tuned. Back soon :D xx_


	7. TWISTER

_Hiya everyone! Things are certainly looking…interesting for our favourite couple ;p xx Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews they all mean so much xx Here's #7 and brace yourselves, guys, it's a long'un…_

Molly and Sherlock were hurried over to an empty and instructed to wait for their class to begin. Their mistake was leaving them alone. Every other second, a smirk or longing glance was exchanged, examining and taking mental notes.

"How long do you suppose we've got?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and licked his lips slightly. Molly smiled and leaned back in her chair.

"I would hazard a guess at less than 10 minutes. But I do love a challenge."

Molly laughed followed by a huge sigh. **It's all talk and banter now. This game or whatever it is now is NOT going to last much longer. I swear to God, if he doesn't end it soon, I bloody will. **Little did she know, Sherlock was thinking the same thing. The door flew open a moment later and a young man entered. Sherlock looked at the man and let out an exaggerated sigh. **Same old, same old with these people. Married young, wife ran off with lover, living in a one-bedroom flat, a cat, bills too expensive really, forced to wear cheaper clothes and does this on the side for extra money. This may be…interesting. **The man turned around to face them and smiled broadly. He cleared his throat.

"Ok, shall we get started. My name is Martin and you are…," he bent over to consult a piece of paper, "Doctor Molly Hooper and Mr. Sherlock Holmes? Are you aware as to why you're here?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something sarcastic and, probably, dirty. Molly stopped him by rapidly jumping in.

"Yes, yes we are. If you don't mind, could you hurry this up, we'd like to get out of here as fast as possible."

Sherlock looked at the floor to hide his smile and Molly tossed her still loose hair behind her shoulders, folding her arms. Sherlock watched with extreme care as every strand was pushed behind her, leaving her perfect neck exposed. Sherlock blinked and smiled to himself. **Note to self: spend a considerable amount of time 'examining' Molly's neck and everything surrounding it. **Martin blinked rapidly.

"Um…of course. Ok, shall we start with a couple of scenarios and how to behave appropriately to them? For example, in an instance where one person requires something from the other, how would we deal with that?"

Sherlock turned his chair to face Molly and she was unsurprised to see the conniving grin she had grown attached to these past few weeks.

"Morning Doctor Hooper, I would like to ask for your assistance with a case. It requires you to…take the place of the victim."

With a quirk of his eyebrows, Sherlock folded his arms across his chest. Molly seductively leaned forward. **Well, he's asking for it now. **Martin was watching their exchange with interest.

"Certainly Mr. Holmes. Where do you want me?"

Sherlock didn't miss the emphasis she placed on the word 'went'. His overactive imagination went into overdrive, and he felt himself growing warmer, hot in fact. He swallowed sharply and breathed deeply.

"Anywhere will do for now, for the time being, at least."

Martin nodded slowly, and began ticking things on his sheet, completely oblivious to the 'subtle' signs they were shooting. Sherlock and Molly were thoroughly enjoying this wordplay and Martin's idiocy. As far as he was concerned, they were behaving appropriately and he could sign them out off as soon as possible.

"Excellent. Now, another instance for communication could be one party offering a general social activity without expecting reciprocation."

Molly and Sherlock nodded taking his words. This time, it was Molly's turn to start the 'ideal' work scenario. She thought for a moment before she came up with something flawless. **This is sure to catch him out…**

"Thank you very much for your kind offer to join you for lunch, Mr. Holmes, I accept, naturally, but I must insist…," she met his eyes and Sherlock noticed the twinkle, "dessert is on me."

There was no stopping his huge grin now and he looked up at her to see it reflected back at him.

"God I hope so," Sherlock whispered as Martin turned his back, and Molly felt herself blushing. Sherlock had been unable to prevent himself. When it came to Molly, he lost all self-control. Martin breathed happily.

"Ok, I really see no problem here. Clearly, the two of you have put aside your…incident earlier. I shall sign you off and we can get out of here."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. **I had rather enjoyed myself. It proved to be…enlightening. It is also safe to say this moron had no idea, judging by the way he kept subtly checking his watch I'd say he wanted to leave as soon as possible, that would explain his inability to see what was right in front of him…**

"Sherlock?"

He was pulled from his thoughts by Molly's soft voice, very close to his ear. He could feel her warm breath on his skin. As she spoke, she made sure her lips caressed his earlobe softly.

"He's gone. That was rather eventful do you not think?"

It was torture. She was exciting, and very seductive. He could hear his mind mocking him, teasing him. **Those lips aren't so small now are they? I know where you'd rather have them! Here, let me treat you to some lovely images…enjoy! **Sherlock closed his eyes and silently cursed. Sometimes, he really hated his subconscious.

"Molly, I need your assistance in the nearest supply cupboard. Now," he stood up and pulled her by the arm over to the door. Wrenching it open with eager hands, Sherlock was greeted with the all too familiar sight of John Watson, accompanied by Mary. Sherlock frowned and wondered if he did this on purpose.

"Oh, hi guys. Um…just wondering, if you're not busy tonight…I was going to invite Mary over and we were going to have a games night. We've…got Twister. Do you two want to come?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the pair. John was shifting on his feet, with a grin plastered to his face and Mary's lips remained firmly tight as if she were afraid of something spilling out of them. **They know something's going on…**

"Yes, we'd love to."

Sherlock and Molly had answered at exactly the same time, causing both John and Mary to raise their eyebrows. They probably looked like they were rehearsing some kind of comedy act. They looked shocked as though expecting a completely different answer…or an excuse. They turned to each other, apparently lost for words.

"Oh…right then. Err…well, be over at 9:30pm. We should be ready by then."

With a small glance at Mary, John nodded and left for the stairs, holding onto his new girlfriend. Sherlock and Molly watched them leave with interest.

"I am almost certain they were the ones who alerted Stamford to our encounter. They are trying to thwart us. This doesn't worry me. If I wish to shag you then I shall…sooner or later."

Sherlock had turned his attentions back to Molly and knew she was thinking the same thing as him. **John and Mary can mind their own business. This is about us and who will be begging first… **She let out a little giggle.

"Oooh, I've never heard you talk like that before! It's kind of…sexy," she smiled and Sherlock returned the smile. **She likes that? Oooh, this is devine. ** Sherlock stepped forwards.

"If you like that…just you wait until we're at 221B and in front of our dear friends. I think together we can manage to make our shamefully tame friends blush and this Twister sounds interesting…," he had leaned forwards. Molly gently pushed him backwards.

"Ah, ah! You do that and you won't be able to stop! You don't want to end our delicious little game here on the hospital floor do you?"

Sherlock stepped back a little smiling slightly.

"It was alright when it was the morgue table, though."

She rolled her eyes, laughing slightly. **He will be the death of me…can you die from having too much sex?**

"I've got to go back to work. I'll see you later," she smiled as she turned to enter her morgue. As she began to walk away, she felt a small stinging sensation to her backside. She turned around, shocked and saw the cheeky smile she loved so much.

"I am looking forward to it very much, Doctor Hooper," Sherlock winked and turned around the corner, disappearing out of sight. Molly sighed happily and twirled into her morgue. Once inside the peaceful silence, she jumped up and down, flailing her arms and cheering with joy. Outside and down the corridor, Sherlock, who had been pressed against the wall listening intently, grinned widely at how they had affected each other in such a short time. **I think Molly Hooper may just be the death of you, Sherlock Holmes…**

"I am telling you, something is going on."

Mary and John were getting 221B ready for the games night. John had hidden Cluedo from the consulting detective. He'd rather not have the night end in real murder. John shook his head at his girlfriend, making a disgusted face.

"I don't think so. What that was…it was probably for a case. You know how 'in depth' Sherlock likes to get."

Mary snorted and John was annoyed that she had made his comment central to Molly and Sherlock. John thought for a moment. **Sherlock and Molly? Well, they'd look cute together but the chemistry? I do not think so… However, they are both scientists, of sorts. **

"John, look what I found."

Mary was waving a colourful box at him and John recognised, with a jolt, it was Twister. John actually liked this game and couldn't wait to play with Mary. But it seemed she had other ideas.

"I guess we'll find out tonight, won't we?"

She had a devious smile on her face and John swallowed. **I wouldn't get your hopes up. Sherlock is not easily manipulated.**

Sherlock emerged from his bedroom at 9:25pm and he seemed eager to get into the action. John frowned as he noticed a few…changes to his flatmate's appearance. He had showered and changed into that purple shirt, again, and…was that aftershave?

"You look…ready."

Sherlock had ignored this and was tapping his feet annoyingly on the floor, checking his watch every ten seconds. Mary shot John a look that said 'I told you so'. A few minutes later, the buzzer sounded and Sherlock had jumped to his feet and raced to answer the door before John and Mary even acknowledged it had gone off.

Molly stepped through the open door; Sherlock had barely left a small space for her to get through, but she couldn't resist getting as close as possible and brushing past him, delighting in the way he had sucked in a breath. She shook off her coat and stood in sleeveless, strapped white top and black skinny jeans…super skinny jeans. After a careful examination, Sherlock shook his head, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"You shouldn't have worn those. They draw too much attention to your rear. I do not think I will be able to keep my hands off of you."

Molly laughed softly and Sherlock noticed her hair bounced around as she did. That hair he had fantasised about bouncing around as she moved above him… He shook his head quickly to get rid of the delightful image.

"That was the idea, Mr. Holmes, but do try to control yourself around our friends. They are, as you yourself suggested, shamefully tame."

Molly had begun walking up the stairs backwards, her eyes still focused on Sherlock. He crept slowly after her, watching as she slowly slipped her shoes off as she went along. When they had finally reached the top, Molly turned the handle and walked backwards into the room followed by Sherlock, still staring into each other's eyes.

"Oh, hi! What took you so long?"

Mary's question was left unanswered as Sherlock and Molly seemed unaware someone had actually spoke. She cleared her throat loudly and still nothing and she turned to John for help. He placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled, breaking the moment between the pair. Without wasting any time, Mary picked up the first game.

"Twister, anyone?"

Sherlock was vaguely familiar with the rules and was aware it involved closeness and listening skills. Molly was looking at him expectantly. It sounded exactly the type of game to test his every ounce of willpower.

"Ok, right-hand red."

It was only 15 minutes into the first game and Mary was already out; Sherlock suspected she had done so on purpose leaving just himself and Molly on the mat. She twisted herself to reach a red circle and, with a slight manoeuvre, Sherlock also found a red circle. It was currently the most uncomfortable position the two of them had ever been in. Sherlock was directly above Molly, although it may not be in the way he had dreamed for so long, but it was still pleasant. She had raised herself from the bottom so she was not touching the mat. She was close enough to smell and Sherlock was sure Molly could smell her most favourite aftershave of his. Every so often, when the time came for them to switch hands, he would lightly graze the back of her jeans and elicit a hiss from her. Molly would get him back, of course, by needlessly grinding against him as she tried to shift her foot. John and Mary watched them with interest, They both seemed unaware that John had stopped calling colours and body parts and they were now doing their own thing.

"Give up, you can't win."

Molly shook her head and bit her lip tightly with the effort of restraining herself from ripping the straining buttons from his shirt and sucking the skin underneath.

"Never. You give up."

Sherlock was also forcefully restraining himself from sliding his hands over her suddenly desirable backside. He found himself wanting to slowly caress the skin before, bizarrely, biting hard into the soft flesh.

"Give up."

They both whispered at the same time and John and Mary were convinced they weren't talking about Twister anymore. Soon, they both tumbled to the floor, panting heavily and staring again. John rolled his eyes. **Maybe Mary had a point…**

Soon after the Twister game, everyone had grown tired of the tedious board games and card tricks John produced. Sherlock had guessed each one with ease, earning him impressed and seductive looks from a certain pathologist. He considered this a bonus. Mary and Molly had left together – well, she had to practically pull her away from Sherlock's enthralling stare – leaving John and Sherlock to tidy the flat. An hour later, Sherlock stood from the sofa, suddenly, and grabbed his phone before heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

Sherlock turned to John who noticed his friend seemed twitchy.

"A walk, need some fresh air."

"Well, take a coat, its…," It was too late, Sherlock had left and had hastily picked up something that was not his coat on the way out, "raining."

John shrugged and yawned. **He's going to get soaked out there. Now, where did I leave that Twister game?**

Sherlock kicked the door to Molly's flat open, not even bothering to knock. She looked around. Sherlock was surprised to see she was in her lab coat with her hair tied back. **She doesn't work nights. **He brushed this aside momentarily, he had come here with a purpose…to give up.

"It's raining outside."

Molly looked him up and down with a dreamy sigh. His hair was plastered to his face and his shirt was dripping. It had turned partially transparent and Molly found her gaze was transfixed to the finely toned muscles she could see. She swallowed, placing her hands on her hips.

"So I can see."

Sherlock stepped over the threshold and tilted his head slightly. Molly was sure his eyes were completely black but she couldn't be sure. He kicked the door shut behind him, and spoke with an unmistakeable huskiness to his voice.

"I'm here...to give up."

He expected Molly to mock him in her triumph, for her to cheer. She just nodded slowly and put her bag on the table. She smiled and placed her hands on her coat.

"That's funny…I was just on my way to 221B to say the same thing to you…," she pulled the buttons open and dropped the lab coat to the floor, revealing a very beautiful red and black lingerie set, definitely not fit for comfort. Sherlock forgot his train of thought for a moment. Molly twirled around slowly to allow him to see it all. Stepping forwards slightly, he noticed writing on the back of the knickers. He chuckled to himself. _Property of Sherlock Holmes. _He looked up at her.

"Help me out of these wet clothes, will you?"

_Well, there we go. This does seem like a perfect place to end the story doesn't it? *laughs evilly* Ok, so let me know what you think, if you'd like me to continue please let me know, because I am more than willing to. If you'd like me to leave it there, then that's also cool. xx Thank you for all your lovely reviews. I love you guys :') Back soon? xx_


	8. It All Comes Down To This

_Hiya again, everybody! Did you really believe I'd leave you hanging after this build up? I am so sorry for the wait, I just wanted it to be perfect and now I'm worried I've ruined it… :/ I have really tried my best not to ruin the 'moment' so I hope this is ok :s. xx Thank you so much for the incredible love for this story as always and it is forever greatly appreciated xx *Deep breaths* Here we go…_

There was a spilt second of heavy breathing and longing looks before they all but ran towards each other, coming together at the lips, locked in a fiery and passionate kiss, tongues battling in desperation, exploring every single inch of each other's mouths. Sherlock's hands wound into her loose hair and let it slide between his fingers, savouring the softness and imagining how it would feel against his bare skin. Molly smoothed his wet hair from his face and shivered as her bare stomach pressed against his damp shirt. They broke apart reluctantly, foreheads resting together, her hand at the base of his neck, and his caressing her cheek. They stood breathing heavily for a moment. **Damn breathing…**

"Why…don't we go…warm ourselves up?"

Sherlock caught her eyes and smirked. Seeing it returned to him was too much. He needed and wanted her…right then. But there was something Sherlock couldn't help thinking. **Cue the inevitable interruption at any moment. **Sherlock hurriedly grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hall towards the bedroom. He felt a tug to his arm and he was pulled into the bathroom.

"Not yet, Mr. Holmes. I think I need a shower…what about you?"

Molly was pleased that his answer was to simply push her roughly into the shower, slamming his hand onto the button. They were both doused with steaming water and the contact made Molly gasp. Sherlock stood and watched the drops slide down her body for a moment, disappearing into the lingerie she still wore. Sherlock made a low rumbling sound in his throat. **That is an awfully nice set…too bad it will not last much longer. **He couldn't hold back any longer, as he watched her pressed against the wall of the shower, biting her lip in anticipation. Sherlock started sucking at her neck, leaving his mark of ownership. His hands came to rest on his newly discovered favourite part of her anatomy, her perfectly shaped behind. He had been right, it felt good and now he needed to taste.

"You are wearing too many clothes, Dr. Hooper."

Sherlock was amazed he could actually form words as his mouth licked, nipped and sucked at the skin around her neck. Molly moaned softly at these different sensations she was feeling. She grabbed at his shirt, half-steadying herself and the other half trying to rip the shirt from his body.

"Right back at you."

That purple shirt was soon thrown into a corner forgotten, as they were soon sliding their wet hands easily along each other's bodies. The water soon began to run cold and Molly turned it off. They stood for a few minutes, staring at each other before Molly and the now shirtless Sherlock began to shiver in the cold bathroom.

"Not in here…bedroom"

He had been amazed he could actually form a coherent sentence but Sherlock took her hand and pulled her towards her bedroom, both ignoring the trail of water they were leaving behind them. Closing the door behind him, he was instantly drawn to her. He pushed her forcefully backwards, until she landed on the bed. He climbed over her and met her mouth again in a fierce and desperate kiss.

"Please…please…this cannot be…another dream…"

Molly opened her eyes to his shut tight; his murmur against her lips had not gone unheard. Perhaps, Sherlock wasn't even aware he had spoken. Molly, whose hands had been running over his damp and toned back, brought them up to cup his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. She saw the pain and desperation lurking beneath the raging lust. Keeping one hand on his cheek, Molly ran the other down his arm and pried one of his hands from her stomach. She brought Sherlock's hand to her chest and looked him in the eyes.

"Feel that? It is my heartbeat…it is very real and forever yours."

Sherlock blinked and slowly nodded placing a tender kiss to her nose followed by her lips, chin, the base of her throat and all the way down to her stomach. Suddenly, lust completely took over and Sherlock grabbed Molly's arms, pulling them away from his hair and pinning them above her head. She had emitted a noise of frustration but he didn't care as he held her in that position, his hands wandering up and down her sides. He was being gentle, slow and gentle.

"For God's sake…Sherlock…"

Molly was sighing as his hands worked their magic against her skin. This was all he needed as he ripped the remaining flimsy fabric from her body, causing Molly to his in shock. Sherlock softly kissed every bit of new skin that was revealed, but resisting the urge to remove his hands from holding her back. **Not just yet. **Sherlock smirked as her found a particularly sensitive spot and he admired how she looked. He had been nowhere near finishing his observations before, finding previously unknown strength,Molly shoved him backwards, freeing herself and trapping Sherlock beneath her. He had landed on something hard and small, but was too busy too care right then. Molly straddled him and smiled, biting her lip making Sherlock swallow. **God, I love it when she does that.** Her fingers danced across the fine muscles she loved so much and leant forwards slightly, her naked chest pressed against his, causing all kinds of electrical currents to surge between them.

"Now, Mr. Holmes, I believe it is high time…," her hands had reached his belt, "we had sex. Unless, of course, you don't want to?"

Quick as a flash, Molly had been rolled over and found Sherlock's sopping trousers tossed into a corner. She smiled as she kissed him, wondering what she could be led on that was digging into her back, but she really didn't care as she was suddenly overcome by the most blissful feelings she had ever encountered…

John sat bolt upright in bed and rubbed his eyes. He had been awoken by a vibrating sound on his bedside cabinet; his phone was ringing. Glancing at the clock, John squinted as he grabbed it, blinking in the sudden bright light. **What the hell is Molly calling me for at…12:10am? **John shook his head and considered ignoring it for a moment, but realised it must be important if she was calling this late…or early? John answered the phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was no answer, just the sound of heavy panting, gasping and sighing filled his ears. John frowned and pressed the phone closer to his ear, trying to discern something. He almost immediately wished he hadn't.

"Stop…being so…damn _gentle_…I want you...harder"

That was Molly's voice alright and it sounded…exhilarated to say the least. There was a sound of annoyance before an unmistakeable voice uttered.

"As you wish…doctor…"

John's mouth fell open as the loud moaning, almost screams, filled his ears. John wanted to slam the phone down, but couldn't. It was…weird was the only word he could think of. Here he was, sitting up in his bed, listening to the mousy pathologist from the hospital beg to be shagged harder by his best friend. **Things like this you just cannot make up. **John hadn't intended to listen once he had discovered the call was accidental…well, he _hoped _it was accidental, anyway. However, he did draw the line at screams of 'that's it, keep going'. There were some things that needed to remain a secret. John Watson sat upright in his bed for a moment, thinking. **It seems Mary was right. **John couldn't wait and decided to phone Mary.

"Mary? Sorry to wake you but you will NEVER guess what just happened to me."

"Oh…my God."

Molly exclaimed as Sherlock rolled off of her, collapsing sweat soaked next to her. Breathless, Sherlock nodded, blindly reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips.

"That…was…so worth…the wait."

Sherlock smiled to himself and felt a surge of pride. **Mycroft now has nothing on me. **Molly wriggled over to sherlock and rested her head against his chest, watching as it rose and fell rapidly. She listened to his heartbeat return to normal and brushed her, once again damp, hair out of her face. Sherlock was smoothing up and down her arm gently.

"I have a thought." Molly raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

"Just one?"

Sherlock smiled and propped himself on his elbow to get a better view of her. He moved himself over her and began softly kissing behind her ear.

"You know…the curious thing about addiction…," he murmured as he trailed his fingers softly, and teasingly slowly, across Molly's skin, trailing down her throat to her stomach, earning him pleasant sighs as he did so, "it is so called, because once one acquires a taste for that substance…," Sherlock began to follow his fingers' path with his lips, "it is rather difficult to control."

Molly was intently concentrating on the way his words came from his mouth, buzzing through her eyes like happy little bees. She could honestly listen to him talk all day. She wound her hands into the soft hair she couldn't keep her hands out of.

"Hmmm…then why should we try?"

Sherlock smirked at this and placed a tender kiss to her belly button. He soon found himself shoved roughly backwards for the second time that night, secretly enjoying the dominant side of his pathologist. Molly straddled him and bit down into his shoulder. She bent her head low to whisper in Sherlock's ear.

"Ever have sex twice in one night?"

Momentarily speechless from her assault on his body, Sherlock swallowed thickly and shook his head. Molly smiled brightly and gently bit his earlobe, causing him to hiss in shock.

"Well, then Mr. Holmes, today's your lucky day."

_I hope that wasn't too bad. I have never written anything like that before so it was all new to me. I hope I didn't horribly destroy the moment (also apologies if that bit wit John creeped you out, like all my ideas, it just came to me, so sorry if that was too weird ;) Thank you so much for your kindness and lovely reviews but most of all for your PATIENCE, lol. :D xx Please let me know what you thought and, as always, I'll be back soon xx_


	9. Supply Closets

_Hello again, guys. Well…its nice to see I didn't screw it up, lol. Seriously, I am so PSYCHED to see that you love it so much! You really are the best ;D Ok, on with the story, then…_

John was in a really bad mood. Foul, in fact, and it was all thanks to the oh-so discreet consulting detective and his not-quite-so mousy pathologist. It was 7:05am when he finally decided he wasn't going to fall back to sleep and grumpily got out of bed. Traipsing into the kitchen, he flicked the kettle on a moved to collect his favourite cup. He got the fright of his life when he saw Sherlock lying on the sofa in his 'thinking position', still wearing the same clothes as last night and John noticed, with extreme unease, that his buttons were done up wrong and his hair rather untidy. John cleared his throat and Sherlock looked up, registering for probably the first time. John almost dropped the cup when he received a warm, genuine smile.

"Good morning, John. Did you sleep…well?"

John narrowed his eyes at the question. **Did he…?**

"Yes. Well, no but I probably got more than you, anyway."

Sherlock scoffed slightly and smirked to himself as he replied, "why would I want to sleep when I had something far more…_entertaining _to indulge in. When she _finally _allowed me to leave her flat, I found that these sensations of sore muscles were quite pleasant."

John rolled his eyes. **Oh, he ****_so _****knew, that bastard. Poor Molly would be mortified. **Somehow, John had the feeling it hadn't been Molly who was unable to put Sherlock down. **Molly has unleashed an animal. **Sherlock looked towards John and couldn't resist taunting him even more.

"You know, I never would have guessed Molly had it in her. She's such a _naughty _girl, leaving her phone in such a place. It was already on the correct number…all it took was a light touch. Well…I say 'light'."

John put his spoon down loudly and turned to Sherlock, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Alright, alright. I get it. So you two are…doing _that. _What does this mean?"

John had taken his usual seat in his chair and was trying not to catch Sherlock's eye. He did notice how the consulting detective couldn't seem to fight the uncharacteristically happy aura he seemed to be emitting. For one, he couldn't ward off that irritating smirk of his. Sherlock sat up properly to observe John with a raised eyebrow.

"Why does it have to _mean _anything? This is just sex. It has always been just sex. That's all we have."

John's eyes widened. **I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I don't believe that for a second. **Judging by the look on Sherlock's face, he didn't believe it either.

"Is that…enough?"

Sherlock looked worried for a moment before he shook it off and regarded John with another disapproving stare.

"Of course. It is exceptionally satisfying and addictive. Well, Molly Hooper is, at any rate. Besides, what else is there?"

John shook his head and buried his head in his paper. Sherlock frowned for a moment, before the smirk returned and he flopped back onto the sofa with a loud sigh. John gripped the edges of the paper tightly. **I hate when he's in between cases. **He suddenly heard steps towards the other side of the room and pulled his paper down.

"Where are you going?"

Sherlock was pulling on his trademark coat and scarf, a look of hunger in his eyes. Sherlock swallowed and spoke rather low.

"Bart's…there's a body I need to examine."

John frowned for a moment, while Sherlock collected his phone and keys.

"But, you're not investigating a-"

"John, it is too early for you to be this stupid. I shall speak to you later."

John grumbled as he returned to his paper. He suddenly had a thought.

"Sherlock, do me a favour and leave your phone here."

John had called but Sherlock merely chuckled and walked out onto the street. John sighed dramatically and muttered to himself, "it's only a matter of time before he falls and when he does…God. Help. Us. All."

Sherlock arrived at Bart's in exactly 13 minutes, deciding to take a cab in his hurry. It was rather early in the morning so Molly wouldn't be quite so rushed off of her feet and could probably spare a moment or two…or five or six. He licked his lips in anticipation and hurried down the steps to the morgue. His steps slowed as he heard laughing from the end of the corridor. It was definitely Molly…and a man? Another man was alone with Molly in the morgue. All of a sudden, the rational part of Sherlock's brain had decided it didn't want to work anymore. He entered the doors to find Molly standing with her back to the door, bent over a body. The man with her was also wearing a white lab coat and…was standing WAY too close for Sherlock's liking. He cleared his throat when neither of them had turned around. Molly whipped her head around and beamed at him suggestively while the man gave a small smile, clearly annoyed he had been interrupted. Sherlock looked the man up and down. **Ok, so who is this bastard? Early-20's, no children, no previous marriages or long-term committed relationships, playboy, average height, spends most of his free time at the gym, student doctor studying medicine majoring in pathology, lives with mother…hmmm, this person doesn't seem to be a threat. He is a dick, however.**

"Sherlock, this is my student Doctor Sidney Smith. He only works weekends on account of being at Uni during the week. Sidney, this is Sherlock Holmes. He occasionally drops by when he is assisting police with their cases. He is also a…personal friend of mine."

Sherlock smirked at her last words and Sidney smiled, holding his hand out to Sherlock, who took it reluctantly. Molly turned back to the body and, in an attempt to look busy, Sherlock went over to his bench. He turned his stool around, however, to observe this…_prick_ easier. Molly examined the body with precision and physically shuddered when Sidney placed his hand at the top of her back. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered something, probably perverse. Sherlock was unaware how closely he had been watching this interaction. He noticed how Sidney's breathing had changed to shallower and deeper breaths, how his once green eyes had turned completely black and, probably most concerning, how he was looking at Molly. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on his stool, suddenly wanting to punch something. Molly straightened quickly, throwing Sidney's hand off of her, and turning towards the door. She stopped in front of it, turning her head slightly to the side, fully aware she was being watched intently by both men. Her statement was directed at one man only, though…

"It's getting a little hot in here…I think I may need something from supplies, anyway. It's always cool in there…well, most of the time. Not sure how long I'll be, but I'm pretty damn hot so I'm thinking quite a while."

She left soon after that, those words seemingly normal to one man in the morgue and leaving the other smirking foolishly and entertaining the dirtiest of thoughts. Sherlock, unable to wait any longer, rose from his stool and made to rush from the room before he was stopped by that idiot of an assistant.

"So, how long of you known Doctor Hooper?"

Sherlock turned back around and paused before answering carefully.

"A while but I have recently begun to see her in a new light…and angle."

Sherlock's eyes flashed excitedly but Sidney didn't notice. He had a childish smile on his face.

"Look, I really like her. Do you have any…pointers to give me about her? You know, so I can have a crack…," he smiled wickedly. Sherlock frowned suddenly.

"No. That is not wise."

"Come on, man. I want a bit of that arse of hers, know what I mean?"

**This man really is sickening. **Sherlock was close to hitting this man but managed to restrain himself. He smirked deviously, the perfect statement on his lips.

"Actually, yes I do. It is perfectly satisfactory but let me tell you this…you cannot handle Molly Hooper. She is deliciously alluring in her ministrations and I am weak…for my addiction of her. Now, be a good lad and attend to that body whilst I assist Doctor Hooper in the supply closet. Rumour has it, it is currently to quiet and very cold in there. We must fix that immediately."

Sherlock left the bemused student in the room as he ran eagerly towards the supply closet. Fifteen minutes later, John Watson had entered the morgue to find Sidney studying the body, wiping his brow on his sleeve. John looked around the room, frowning.

"Where's Sherlock?"

Sidney turned, an annoyed and pained expression on his face. John buried his face in his hands. **They wouldn't, would they?**

"Supply closet. They left about 15 minutes ago. I was too scared to go and look for them."

"Thanks."

John hurried out of the morgue towards the supply closet. As he neared, he heard the distinctive noises similar to the ones he had overheard on the phone the previous. He had been planning to have it out with them but knew better than to disturb them. They'd probably carry on with him stood there anyway. As he was walking away, John heard Sherlock's distinctive voice growl.

"Now, Doctor, are you going to make me feel better?"

At Molly's giggle of a reply, John couldn't leave the hospital fast enough. **Ah, professionalism.**

_Ok, there we go. I hope you enjoyed that one ;p xxThank you so much for reading and please review as always! Stay tuned, my lovelies, back soon xx_


	10. That SIDNEY

_Hiya and welcome back, everyone. xx Here's another chapter filled with all the things I hope you love about this story so, without further ado, enjoy ;p…xx_

It was some time before Molly returned to her quite morgue, and she was noticeably flustered when she finally showed her face. Her hair was untidy and her cheeks flushed, the buttons on her shirt were done up wrong and, probably most noticeable, her neck was displaying incriminating and distinctive red marks. She took a deep breath and returned to the body, trying to ignore the look Sidney was giving her.

"Are you alright, Doctor Hooper? You were gone an awfully long time."

Molly nodded her head, clearing her throat and making a point not to lift her head to really look at him.

"Yes…yeah, I'm fine…," the morgue doors swung open and the Molly saw the familiar swish of a coat from the corner of her eye, "perfectly so, in fact."

Sidney nodded, still not entirely convinced. The evening passed by rather slowly; Sidney wondered why Sherlock was still there, even though he seemed to be doing nothing except watching Molly intently, a greedy look in his eyes. It made Sidney quite uneasy, actually. Molly was bustling about the lab, filling in papers and dissecting the body further. It had been when she needed to reach a folder on the highest shelf when Sherlock's attention had been really focused. She had stretched high, standing on a chair, and her lab coat had been pulled up as well, revealing the backs of her long, lovely legs. Sherlock's eyes travelled up and down them, for what probably was the hundredth time, and he marvelled at their length…and he wasn't the only one. Sidney was being even less subtle than the consulting detective. He was blatantly staring, open mouthed and childlike. Sherlock rolled his eyes and secretly delighted in the fact that he was allowed to _touch _as well as look. Sidney suddenly shuffled over to the body and began searching for something. For what Sherlock was unaware; he was currently…_distracted_. Molly turned to look at him.

"Aren't you going to help me?"

"No way."

Sherlock replied with a firm smirk, settling back into the bench behind him. At this moment, much to Sherlock's disappointment, she had found what she had been looking for. Molly hopped down from the chair and waltzed over to him, standing close enough to whisper into his ear.

"Shows over. Back to work, Mister."

Sherlock sighed and raised an eyebrow, glancing at her in the way that made her weak.

"Never mind. We can finish it later…only with more _contact _involved."

Molly smiled and placed a quick kiss to his cheek. Sidney let out a startled gasp, his vision still concentrated on the corpse. Molly rolled her eyes at Sherlock before checking to see the mess he had no doubt caused.

"What?"

"Look, Doctor Hooper."

Molly peered at the body to where Sidney was pointing and couldn't see anything. She shot him an irritated glance before he started frantically pointing again. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"There, you have to lean right over. Here."

He took her arms and, standing directly behind her, leant her forwards to get a better look at the body. Sherlock frowned, his knuckles whitening from the bench he was unaware he was gripping. **He's pushing his luck…**

"Ok, thanks. You can let go now."

Molly wriggled free and Sidney, with no other choice, let go and took a few steps back. A few more than was necessary. Molly peered deep inside the body, a little crease appeared in her forehead. She was standing on her tiptoes and Sidney was making no effort to hide the fact he was attempting to look up her skirt. Sherlock wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to resist the temptation of hitting this bastard.

"Doctor Smith, is it? I assume there is work you should be completing?"

Sidney gave Sherlock a look that seemed to say 'You're not my boss', complete with a cheeky smirk. The look he received in return…well, if looks could _kill…_

"It's ok, I can _assist _Doctor Hooper in any way I can…"

Sherlock was going to say something, _anything _to wipe the smug smile that was creeping onto that git's face. But instead, Sherlock spun around and huffed in silence.

"Or, in any way _she _likes."

It had been a quiet whisper but the detective had heard it nonetheless. Molly was too absorbed in her work to have heard his little jibe. Sherlock jumped to his feet and rounded on the pathetic student who really had nothing on him. So, why was he affecting Sherlock in such a way?

"Sherlock? Are you alright?"

He was glaring at the innocent looking Sidney, who had his arms folded across his chest, hiding the smile of triumph. Sherlock straightened his coat down and gave a small smile in Molly's direction.

"Yes." He paused suddenly, as Molly gave him a worried look before shrugging and returning to her work. "Actually, Doctor Smith, may I have a word?"

Sidney looked shocked and nodded, the smile had returned. He gestured out into the hall and Sherlock followed him and waited until the doors had shut again. He took a deep breath. **I must not lose my temper, he looks quite fragile. **Sidney looked at the taller man with an interested expression.

"It seems your…interests in Doctor Hooper lie beyond the field of medicine."

It was a statement and one that Sidney didn't even bother denying. He nodded clearly.

"Yes, it's true. She's rather fine, is she not?"

Sherlock thought it best not to reply and instead settled for approaching the subject at hand.

"Leave her alone. She does not require your unnecessary attentions."

Sidney actually laughed and dropped his folded arms by his sides. His eyes flashed dangerously and he stepped forwards. He was much shorter than Sherlock and looked very weak. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. **It seems I have touched a nerve.**

"Don't worry, Mr. Holmes. There is nothing to worry about. I am waiting for you to screw this up. A little birdie told me it's just a sexual thing anyway. It will not last and when it is finished…I will be there to pick up where you left off. Starting in her bedroom…"

Sherlock, losing all self-restraint, grabbed Sidney by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him off of the floor. Sidney's eyes widened in shock, his hands jumping to his neck as he stared into the furious eyes of the consulting detective.

"I have got news for you 'mate'. Molly likes _men _not boys who cannot control their perverted thoughts. She is more important to me than anyone I know and I will not lose her. It may be just sex but every time is new, exciting and pure ecstasy. I have never experienced anything like this. Molly keeps me coming back for more…she tortures me from the inside out. She is inside my head and I cannot seem to get rid of her…I do not _want _to get rid of her. Yes, I probably will screw this up because she is too good for me and may realise it at any moment. I will take every opportunity to prove to her how much I appreciate her…"

"Things change…she will want more…I can give it to her…"

Sherlock's fingers tightened their grip and Sidney wriggled in pain, gasping for air. Sherlock slammed him against the wall and lowered his voice sinisterly.

"You see, that is where you are wrong. You will never be that person. I have ruined men for Molly Hooper."

Sidney was amazed when he was suddenly released. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. The detective looked horrified at what had just spilled from his mouth. His innermost thoughts had just been revealed. **I need some air. **He turned around and began to walk down the corridor. He heard a quiet chuckle and glanced over to see Sidney smirking, clutching his throat.

"That's…pretty…egotistical…don't you think?"

Sherlock shook his head; it was his turn to smirk now.

"No, it's the truth. Well, it is _screamed_ at me every single time I am with Molly."

Sidney frowned, rubbing his neck. With one last smirk, Sherlock swished his coat around and turned to leave. Sidney wasn't giving up, however.

"Just you wait, Mr. Holmes. One mistake and…I'm as good as in."

Sherlock silently fumed as he hurried out of the hospital. **I need to think. I cannot believe I am even suggesting this, but I think I need to ask for John's advice. I must be going mad…**

_That Sidney…he's a bit of a dick, isn't he? Lol. Thanks so much for reading again, and let me know what you thought, always interested in anything you've got to say ;p xx back real soon guys, stay tuned xx_


	11. Some Good Old French Lovin'

_Hello again, everyone! Oooh, things are getting interesting now…and I think you guys are going to like this one. Expect bad language, guys. Let's face it, its about time, right? xx Tee-hee, well, without further hesitation, bring on the chapter… xx_

"Bastard!"

Sherlock slammed the door behind him and slouched up the stairs of 221B, throwing himself onto the sofa with a loud crash. John sighed and turned the paper he was reading.

"What's he done now?"

Sherlock frowned at him. He wasn't even looking at him, how did he know who he was on about.

"It is not Lestrade, this time?"

John nodded his head, not really paying attention. Sherlock closed his eyes and clasped his hands under his chin, his thinking position. John threw the paper onto the table, his interest now obtained.

"Ok, then. Who?"

Sherlock paused for a long moment, choosing his words carefully before, finally, sitting up to face John.

"Sidney. He's being a…"

"Twat?"

John shrugged and smiled when he saw Sherlock nod slightly. John didn't understand why, of course, but he could tell Sherlock was really pissed at something. He didn't need to ask, however, as Sherlock had officially activated 'rant mode'.

"He doesn't seem to grasp the concept of disinterest. He has taken a liking to Molly and countless times she has rejected him. Molly doesn't know, of course, what he is really like. He practically forced himself onto her today. I am not sure how to deal with this."

John looked shocked for a moment and came to the conclusion that Sherlock was exaggerating. Sure, Sidney was young and it was only sensible for him to develop a crush on his mentor, but John highly doubted he had 'forced himself onto her'.

"How did you…you know…deal with it?"

Sherlock looked guilty for a split second before anger rushed to his face again. His hands became fists as they rested on his knees.

"Irrationally. I let his comments and taunting effect my judgement. I grabbed him by the throat. I wanted to hurt him."

John was nodding slowly. He settled back into his seat, silently pondering.

"Sounds like you're jealous, mate. You must believe, on some level, this guy is actually a threat!"

Sherlock would have protested but the downstairs door swung open. His eyes widened as he remembered it was Molly's early day for finishing.

"Not a word, do you hear?"

John mimed zipping his mouth closed and throwing it away. Sherlock nodded in appreciation as Molly stumbled through the door, Mary on her arm laughing away. It seems they were excited about something. Of what that was, John and Sherlock were unaware.

"Hi! I didn't know you were coming over."

John greeted his girlfriend with a smile which she returned broadly. All knowledge of Sidney went out of the window as Molly kissed Sherlock passionately.

"Mmm…I've missed you! Why did you leave early?"

Molly murmured against his lips, her eyes closed and hands smoothing his neck and along his shoulders. Sherlock responded with equal passion.

"I have absolutely no idea. I must be an idiot."

Molly laughed as she continued to kiss him, ignoring the whispered 'get a room' coming from behind her. She stepped away and pulled Mary with her to Sherlock's bedroom. She spent most of her time in there when she was here…well, _all_ of her time, really. Sherlock and John blinked in confusion and glanced at each other, both thinking the same thing. **Are we supposed to follow them?**

"Where are you going?"

"To pack, of course."

Sherlock and John were even more confused. **Pack for what?**

"Don't tell me you've forgotten? Mary and I are going to France for the weekend! It was supposed to be a weekend of drinking and lots of men, but with Mary now taken, that's out of the window."

Molly disappeared to pack some more of her things she had left here. Sherlock noticed how she hadn't mentioned him. **Is she still planning to meet lots of 'men'? **He looked towards John who looked equally uneasy.

"France? Oh yeah…Mary told me a couple of days ago. Apparently, it's an annual thing they do. We can't let them go on their own, can we?"

Sherlock shook his head. If anyone was going to be sleeping with Molly this weekend, it was going to be him.

"I agree, although France isn't very appealing to me. I cannot allow Molly to have drunken sex with a random French stranger."

John shook his head, and sprung to his feet. Sherlock also got to his feet and sighed. John turned around for a moment, a curious thought on his lips.

"What are you two calling each other?" When he received a raised eyebrow, John continued, "you know, Mary's my girlfriend. I guess you and Molly are…," John appeared to be deep in thought for a moment before snapping his fingers, "fuck buddies!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. **John's been reading the urban dictionary again. **John looked pleased that he finally knew what 'the kids' were talking about.

"Friends with benefits, that kind of thing!"

"Yes, thank you, John."

The weekend came around sooner than expected. The women were buzzing with excitement whilst Sherlock was dreading the French countrysides, fresh air and sunshine. He heaved the bags down to the cab driver and shoved them into the boot. He relaxed on the way to the harbour, Molly snuggling into his chest. **I cannot believe I agreed to this…because I did not want Molly to sleep with anyone else. It is not like we are an official item…she can do what she pleases. **He smirked to himself as he realised…that she already was.

"What are you so happy about?"

Sherlock looked down to see Molly glancing at him suspiciously. Still smirking, he bent to whisper in her ear.

"I have always wanted to have sex in a foreign country."

Molly shuddered at his deep, sensuous voice at her ear. **Will I ever get enough of you, Sherlock Holmes? **She turned her head to allow herself to whisper into his ear in return.

"Well, then. Since going to clubs and shagging strangers is out, I guess I'll have to find _someone_ else to do. You up for the challenge?"

Sherlock didn't answer and Molly looked up at him to see his eyes unfocused and gazing into the distance. She had stunned the consulting detective into silence with her sultry promises. She had no doubts that his thoughts were on their, now suddenly, dirty weekend. And dirty it was going to be indeed…

John and Mary were sitting on the top deck of the ferry, taking in the glorious sunshine and sipping their drinks. Sherlock and Molly had gone to get more drinks and some snacks, but that had been about half an hour ago. John shrugged and sipped the last remains of his beer. Mary had started early and was now drinking her favourite drink, gin and tonic.

"Go steady, love! It's only eleven!"

Mary playfully pushed him, mumbled something about it being her first and looked out to sea. It really was beautiful. Sherlock and Molly emerged a moment later, looking flustered and empty handed.

"Where the hell have you two been? We're almost there and where's my drink?"

Sherlock was pleased the wind quickly cooled his flushed face and hid his already messed up hair. He hoped John didn't notice how his shirt had been hastily tucked in or how some of the buttons were done up wrong. Molly looked equally a mess. Her makeup was uneven and the straps of her dress were broken. They seemed to have been ripped clean off.

"There was a line. They had run out by the time we got there."

John and Mary looked them up and down for a moment before sighing and turning back out to sea. Sherlock breathed an unheard sigh of relief and took Molly's relaxed hand in his, leading her over to the edge of the boat.

They had arrived at the hotel at 1:00pm and were just desperate to unpack and take in what they could on their first day. They had chosen a lovely restaurant to eat in and even Sherlock ate something, albeit small and with a tremendous amount of persuasion. They had decided to look around the shops for their first half-day in France. It was too sunny for Sherlock's liking and he huffed as often as he could. As he looked at the 'modifications' he had made to Molly's dress he couldn't help but think **maybe there's a bright side to this sun. **He cursed his accidental pun and continued walking behind his group. By the time it was time to head to their hotel, Mary was carrying four shopping bags in each hand and John was heaving her handbag on his shoulder.

"Don't lose that, it's got my passport in!"

"Believe me…I think I'd know if…I lost this!"

Sherlock's eyes were darting around, taking everything and making deductions on random strangers. It was too hot to fully concentrate so he could have made some errors. It was dark when they finally reached their hotel. They walked to their floor and John and Mary waved goodnight to Sherlock and Molly. John sighed heavily as he put the key into the lock.** With any luck, they'll go straight to sleep. **He soon realised this wasn't happening any time soon because, as soon as the door had closed behind them, there was a thud against the door, followed by the deep voice of Sherlock muttering.

"Hmmm…Doctor Hooper...I think I need a physical. What do you think?"

This was then followed by lots of giggling. John couldn't get the door open fast enough…

All seemed to be quiet at last from next door. John opened an eye and glanced around. He had drifted off, still sat up in the light of the bedroom. He looked to his side. Mary was still reading her book by the light.

"Oh…have they finally stopped?"

John stretched and rubbed his sore neck. Mary put her book down and yawned, not really paying attention to the question but nodding anyway. She began settling down onto the pillows when she felt John rubbing the top of her leg. She smiled sleepily.

"Mary?"

Mary sighed softly, smiling widely, her tired eyes half-closed.

"John."

John shifted closer to Mary's side of the bed, leaning over her and placing a soft kiss to her cheek. Mary opened her eyes and turned towards him, and noticed the smirk on his face. She rolled her eyes in an 'if you must' kind of way. John took this as his sign and leant forwards, hovering close to her lips.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES! I swear to you, if you don't come over here and fuck me, right now, I will wrestle you to the ground and ride you until you damn well break!"

The cry from the room next to theirs echoed around them and John snapped his eyes open, the mood gone instantly. Mary, on the other hand, was shaking with silent laughter. John rolled over and mumbled a goodnight. He could faintly make out a chuckle from next door and distinguish Sherlock speaking extremely low.

"I'd like to see you try!"

After that, John wished that sleep would hurry up and take him as he heard the sharp thud of a person hitting the ground followed by the sounds of Molly fulfilling her shrieked promise. John knew he would regret choosing to be right next to their room…

_Ok, hope you enjoyed that! I sure did. I don't know where France came from…but its there anyway. xx Let me know what you thought and thank you so much for reading. Always appreciated. Back soon guys! xx_


	12. It's Getting Hot in Here

_Hiya guys! Well, it looks like Britain is FINALLY getting its summer. I actually saw the sun today! Anyway…things are certainly hotting up in France and I don't just mean the weather ;D xx Thank you all so much, and on we go with chapter 12… xx_

It was safe to say, John hadn't had the best night's sleep of his entire life. Was this because of the heatwave that had engulfed the country overnight? The hell it was. Sherlock and Molly had insisted on an 'all-nighter', as Mary had put it. **Where do they find the stamina? And why has no one complained? I mean, I know we're in France, but honestly… **John had drifted into an uneasy sleep when things had 'slowed down'. Mary, however, had slept just fine. John sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was hot…very hot. France was still having its heatwave and John fished his short sleeved shirt and shorts from his bag. Mary woke up shortly afterwards, with a large smile on her face.

"Did you sleep well?"

John frowned over at her and she started to laugh. She climbed out of bed and began to pull on her flattering, but very sensible, dress. It was long and floral, nothing at all like Molly had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.

"Not as well as you, it seems."

John finished getting dressed and, wasting no time, pulled Mary over to the door. He was rather hungry and breakfast would be starting soon. Mary stopped by the door and placed the hotel key, their phones, the camera and the sunscreen into her handbag. They left their room and paused outside Sherlock and Molly's room. It was silent…

"Maybe we should ask them if they want to come down for breakfast?"

John could think of a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea but was too late in expressing them to Mary. She hammered on the door and took a step back. John was trying to look anywhere but the door so settled for the floor instead. Curiosity soon got the better of him, however, as the door was wrenched open to reveal an irritated, flustered looking Sherlock appeared, holding a sheet around him and…was that a tie around his neck? **Sherlock doesn't wear ties…**

"What?"

He sounded hasty and looked between the pair frantically. John cleared his throat and focused on the ceiling this time. Mary was feeling slightly braver than he was and smiled brightly.

"Hi, we were going to breakfast, did you and Molly want-"

"No."

Mary nodded and she could sense the haste in his voice as well. Sherlock had started to tap the door frame he was leaning against, waiting impatiently for them to get on with it.

"Ok, well…we're going into the town and possibly for a lovely walk in the park. It's so lovely and hot…feel free to join us later when you've…finished."

Sherlock gave a fake smile, stepping back and slamming the door behind him. John and Mary exchanged amused glances before, sighing and retreating to the hotel lounge. They had made it halfway down the corridor when they heard a voice, making them whip around.

"Hey, did either of you bring the camera?"

Sherlock was standing in the doorway again, practically shaking with the effort to stay out there. John nodded and ran over to him, passing him the camera. Sherlock examined it for a moment before looking at John with a smirk.

"Is there a record function?"

John nodded and pointed out the button, feeling himself going red. Mary was watching them curiously trying to figure out what they were saying. John assumed he already knew the answer to the question he was about to pose, but thought he had better ask anyway.

"So, you're planning on leaving this hotel room, then?"

Sherlock just smiled and retreated back into the room, closing the door behind him. John nodded to himself and walked back over to Mary. She looked at him with a confused expression.

"Shall we go get breakfast then? Tell me all about it there."

"You know what, I'm not really that hungry anymore, Mary. But I'll tell you…if you really want to know."

The bed had become too ordinary, too easy. The wall was nice...but after their third time there, they grew more desperate, so sunk to the floor instead. This is where they lay now, gasping for air and entwined in each other's limbs. As he held Molly and watched their chests rise and fall rapidly, he suddenly had a brilliant idea. He glanced towards the back of the room with a smirk.

"Oh, look, Molly. A balcony."

Molly giggled into his side and kissed his shoulder, moving up to his neck and along his jaw. Sitting up, suddenly, she locked eyes with Sherlock and spoke in the incredibly seductive voice she knew he couldn't resist.

"We'll get caught."

Sherlock shook his head and pulled her into a tender kiss, his hands gently grazing along her thighs, making her shudder.

"As you can see, there is quite a high fence surrounding it. Besides, the whole point of it is the thrill of being caught, is it not?"

Molly laughed and, leaning forwards, kissed his forehead.

"Yeah, like _we _need any thrills."

Sherlock sat up, a wicked smile on his face and folded his arms.

"Fine, if you don't want to…"

"I never said that! Just give me a minute…"

Molly stood up and ran into the bathroom, closing it behind her. Sherlock smirked as he knew the reason she had gone in there. After discovering Sherlock would be coming along, Molly had bought an expensive lingerie set that she knew he would like. He had deduced this from her eagerness to attempt to put it on last night…if he had _let _her. Sherlock opened the balcony door and breathed in the French air. His phone rang behind him, breaking the spell. He frowned as he stepped towards it. **It cannot be John or Mycroft, they both know I only text. It is not Mother, she is in Australia. It cannot be Lestrade, I told him I was unavailable… **He looked at the phone and saw it was an unknown number. He answered it wearily.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Sherlock! I haven't seen you around here today."

Sherlock immediately scowled. He wasn't in the mood for this.

"What do you want Sidney?"

Sherlock deduced by the smug tone it the arsehole's voice that he was unaware he and Molly were in France together. Sherlock was willing to bet that Sidney assumed they had called it quits and had called to brag. He wasn't wrong…

"I told you. I told you, you'd ruin it. And now, here I am picking up the pieces."

Sherlock frowned in confusion.

"Really? How do you mean?"

Sidney laughed evilly and Sherlock could see him in his mind, pacing up and down the lab.

"Well, I am currently in Doctor Hooper's bed and she has just been singing my praises, if you get my meaning. Well, more like _screaming _my praises."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at this pathetic attempt. He was actually speechless. **Do people actually do that? **He was trying to think of the perfect thing to say back like 'I think you've got it the wrong way around' or 'that is quite an achievement considering not twenty minutes _Doctor Hooper _was twisted beneath _me _and screaming _my _praises'. He didn't have to, however, as the bathroom door opened and Molly emerged, wearing a beautiful lingerie set. Molly smiled as she noticed Sherlock take in her appearance. She sauntered over to him and teasingly traced her finger around his lips, watching as his eyes became darker with each touch. She whispered into his ear, next, causing him to shiver slightly.

"Hmmm…an interesting conversation, is it? Don't be too long…I want you again. Right now…"

Molly turned around and strode onto the balcony slowly and settled herself onto the floor with an exaggerated sigh. Sherlock stared for a few moments before being shaken out of the dirty fantasies that had jumped into his head.

"Who was that?"

Sherlock was rather distracted with the ravishingly delicious sight on the balcony to realised straight away that Sidney was talking to him. He remembered suddenly and fiercely spoke.

"That, Sidney, was Doctor Molly Hooper. I don't know who's bed you are in or with who but I can assure _you _the Doctor Hooper you are looking for is over here, with me in France, having the best sex of her life. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's something _else _I'd rather be doing than talking to you."

Sherlock angrily cut off the phone and threw it down, hurrying out onto the balcony, nearly tripping over his sheet in his haste…

_Oh, in your face, Sidney! Lol, ok, I hope you liked that one! xx Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you thought! Back soon, guys… xx_


	13. So Keep On All Your Clothes?

_Hiya guys. Thank you so much as always for the lovely reviews I keep receiving, each one makes me smile :D I hope you like this one! xx Ok, back to the story, and its another long'un guys (well, what I call long anyway) ;p … xx_

As soon as the phone hung up, Sidney threw it against the wall in an uncontrolled rage. It shattered into pieces before his eyes and his fist soon followed the spot the phone had struck. He withdrew his hand, staring at the bloodied knuckles and out of place bones. He had broken his hand. It wasn't enough. In a blind anger, he tipped the benches over, causing all the hospital equipment to tumble to the floor, causing an almighty racket. He scattered Molly's papers and, with his one good hand, heaved the expensive microscope Sherlock used from behind the desk and threw it as hard as he could, which turned out not to be very far. It landed with a crash to the floor, destroying the item that probably cost the hospital thousands. Looking at the mess he had caused, a thrill went through his body, tingling in his fingertips and pulsing in his veins.

The anger he had felt during that conversation boiled over into destruction…and it felt _good. _**I was so sure I had that obnoxious prick then.** **How was I supposed to know they'd gone away together?** **I didn't even know they were that serious. Maybe it's just a dirty weekend so ****_he _****can work off his animalistic appetites on her, poor woman.** This thought didn't make the anger subside. Sidney clenched his fists, causing pain to throb in his broken hand. **Come to think of it, he hadn't seen that idiot doctor or his insufferable whore around lately. Maybe they went with them. They can keep an eye on him and make sure he treats my dear, sweet Doctor right! MY Doctor, not his. MINE! **Sidney kicked the remains of the microscope as he left the morgue. He breathed heavily as he stomped down the corridor.

He paused outside the supply cupboard they all too often snuck off to. Sidney shuddered as he thought of all that could have happened in there. The rage returned and he kicked the door down. He scowled at the mess in there; cleaning products littered the floors as if they had been knocked off or brushed aside, a small collection of Molly's bras were strewn about the place, the old hospital bed at the far end of the room seemed a tad 'overused', to say the least, and the old, disused gurney tucked away in the corner appeared to broken or at least have a dodgy wheel. Sidney felt anger flare up inside him. He skulked over to the pile of bras and gathered them into his pockets. Soon enough, completely lost to his fury now, Sidney was standing with his lighter in his hand, smirking devilishly as he noticed the small oxygen tank opposite the gurney…

John and Mary returned to the hotel to find an unfamiliar sight greet them. Sherlock and Molly had left their hotel room and managed to get dressed. **Honestly, it's a miracle they can still ****_walk. _**If this wasn't startling enough, as they drew closer, John noticed something wasn't right. They were sitting apart, arms folded and facing away from each other. They looked like a pair of five year olds who were fighting over a toy. **Well, this time, Mummy and Daddy aren't sorting this one out. **They had reached the table and sat opposite the pair, who seemed to be in some kind of immature argument. John cleared his throat and reached for the water on their table.

"Uh…everything alright?"

He smiled nervously and handed the jug to Mary, who poured her own into a glass, and staring intently at her sulking friend. John eyes flitted between them and noticed neither hardly moved.

"Fine."

Sherlock and Molly had answered his question in unison, still unmoving. John glanced towards Mary, who shrugged and drank the remainder of her water, now avoiding looking at them. She settled for fanning herself with her hand. John rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. The silence was so awkward. Luckily, he didn't have to put up with it for long.

"I can't believe you dropped me."

It was barely audible but everyone at the table had heard it. John buried his face in his hands in his trademark way and Mary looked shocked. Sherlock turned to her, suddenly, his face impossible to read.

"I did not drop you. You slipped. The two are quite different."

Molly's mouth dropped open and her volume increased, apparently forgetting they were in the company of John and Mary. John, meanwhile, prayed for the awkward silence of before to return.

"Oh, come on! It wasn't _that _hot in the room. If you'd give me a chance to catch my breath, I wouldn't be so damn sweaty, will I? Plus, it isn't all _me _you know. Anyway, it serves you right for insisting we do it against that faulty wall again!"

By this point, John and Mary were both wishing they hadn't come to join them at the table. The atmosphere, however, changed instantly as Sherlock, breathing heavily, smirked his most devious smirk.

"That wall wasn't faulty when we got here. Besides, I didn't hear any complaining at the time."

Molly, cursing herself and the effect he had on her, the one that caused her to melt instantly, smiled brightly and turned to kiss him, rather passionately. John signalled at a passing waiter to bring him the alcohol menu. He had a feeling he was going to need it…

St Bart's was all in a panic. Fire fighters surrounded the building and were ushering people out. Patients were waiting for the all clear in the car park, some were carrying drips, whilst others were supported by staff. The Head Administrator of the hospital was dashing around frantically, reassuring patients and staff, alike, when he was ushered over by the chief fire fighter.

"'scuse me, sir? You the boss?"

The administrator turned to the man and wiped his brow. He gulped at the burly man standing before him and took a nervous step forwards.

"Y -y-yes, I am, indeed. Dr. s-s-Stan Smith Jr. W-w-what did you f-f-find?"

He hated his nervous stammer but the Chief just looked at him and gestured behind him. Stan pushed his glasses up his nose, his round face shining with sweat.

"The explosion was only minor and mainly in the morgue room ya got down there. There's nothin' left o' it, o' course. I sure 'ope, no one was workin' down there."

Stan looked horrified for a moment before swallowing thickly.

"My son, Sidney, works d-d-down there but Mike Stamford assured me he saw him moments before the dreadful i-i-incident."

The Chief nodded and turned back to the building slightly, not really paying attention to the man sweating profusely in front of him.

"Yeah, there was no one down there when m'boys looked so 'e must'a got out jus' fine. I wouldn' worry none."

Stan smiled weakly before shaking his head slightly.

"How d-d-did this happen, Chief?"

The Chief sighed and pointed out the back of the hospital.

"See tha'? There was the morgue room. M'boys found an oxygen tank in there and burnt bits of broken 'ospital stuff. Looks like it was ransacked before we got there. We reckon, someone set it on fire before 'scaping."

Stan gasped and mopped his brow once more. He slowly nodded at the Chief,

"T-t-thank you, good sir. If you'll excuse me, I have a lot of mess to clear up."

"Afternoon, gov."

The Chief strode in the direction of the fire engine to receive his team's report. Stan stood for a moment, shocked. **How did a fire start in the morgue?**

John, Mary, Sherlock and Molly had decided – well, Mary and Molly had decided, the boys just sulked behind them, trudging in their wake – to visit the local shopping plaza and have a girly shopping spree. As they walked in front, arms linked and laughing, Mary in her oversized hat and Molly her oversized sunglasses, Sherlock admired how her dress looked from the back. John followed his gaze and rolled his eyes. John turned to look out at the streets they were walking down and noticed a street performer. He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder and, before he could say anything, he was cut off by a yell of pain.

"OW! What the hell was that for?"

John looked surprised but the girls didn't seem to notice. They carried on walking and laughing together, occasionally glancing back to see if they were ok. John frowned.

"Sorry, mate. I didn't know another one of your many 'sexual escapades' had ended in disaster."

"No."

This was all Sherlock said. He was still staring ahead, his face covered by the sun. He still wore his shirt and trousers, however. **Thank god he's ditched that jacket, though.**

"So, what happened?"

Sherlock fidgeted slightly as he walked before turning slowly towards John.

"Sunburn."

John nodded in understanding but one thing still confused him…

"But, you wear those shirts all the time. How did you get sunburn?"

Sherlock smirked and John immediately regretted asking the question. His friend knew no shame, whatsoever.

"I don't wear shirts _all _the time, Doctor Watson. We were out on the balcony of our room having…"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it…"

One of these days he was going to learn NOT to ask…

Collapsing against the wall, Sidney clutched his searing chest, breathing in and out painfully. His clothing was singed and he was sure his ribs were broken. His foot had been crushed by one of the falling tiles. He was bleeding majorly from a cut above his eye and his body was covered in burns and bruises. How he had made it to his current location still conscious was a miracle. How he had made it out of Bart's alive and unseen was even more amazing. But here he was, outside Molly Hooper's flat, desperate for assistance. He knew she wouldn't be in, he just needed her stuff. He broke in easily and hurriedly looked for her medicine cabinet. He quickly dressed his wounds and grabbed some pills. He suddenly heard a hissing sound behind him. He narrowed his eyes and turned slowly to see a tabby cat baring its teeth and arching its back at him.

"Hello, little buddy. Its ok, I'm Molly's friend."

He reached out to pet the cat but received a sharp scratch across the top. Swearing at the top of his voice, he aimed a kick in the cat's direction but was unsteady and toppled forwards, falling face first. Lifting his head, he smiled in satisfaction as he noticed his kick had struck the animal, which had collided with the wall and was now unconscious. Sidney knew he didn't have long so set out on his mission to make Molly's flat a replica of St. Bart's new and improved morgue…

Settling into their hotel rooms, John kissed Mary goodnight and thought he'd try and get a head start on sleep before 'things' started up next door. Sherlock gingerly sat down on the bed and began to gently peel his shirt off. Molly placed her hands on her hips. She had removed her dress and was wearing her short shorts and a bra, her long hair flowing freely down her back.

"I told you to put on sunscreen."

Sherlock shot her an annoyed glance before sighing frustration. Molly rolled her eyes and kneeled in front of him, gently twisting the buttons on his shirt and slowly pulling it from his shoulders. Sherlock smiled in appreciation and Molly stood up, ruffling his hair.

"Stay there. I've got an idea."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow but did as he was told. Molly returned a moment later with a bottle of soothing after sun lotion. She climbed behind him and applied the cool liquid to her hands and gently massaged around the deeply reddened skin she found. She kissed his neck as she did so, avoiding the painful patches of red on her way.

"Better?"

Sherlock, who had closed his eyes unknowingly, nodded.

"Oh, yes. In fact, I think, once I am feeling better, I shall have to return the favour."

Molly smirked against his skin and whispered into his ear, causing him to shudder.

"I'm not sunburnt, Sherlock."

"Yes, I know. And I do not care."

Sidney smiled at the mess of Molly's flat and, with a quick glance, hobbled away, slamming the door behind him. **It's a shame she didn't have any matches…**

_Eeek, that one was a little darker than my others :s but how much do you want Sidney to die now ;D Oh, what a dick! That guy can't handle rejection, can he? Lol xx Thank you so much for reading and stay tuned! xx_


	14. An Insane Psycho

_Hi everyone! I just gotta say, I love the word 'douche'. You NEVER hear it over here, but I'm pretty sure we'd DESTROY it, lol. xx Anyway, enough of the random babblings and on with the chapter… xx_

Molly woke up alone that morning. Their last morning in France, she noted with a sigh. She blinked in the sunlight in the room and waited for her eyes to adjust. The space next to her had the covers thrown back and the sheets were ruffled. Molly wrinkled her forehead slightly. **Sherlock had been here at one point, so where is he? **A sharp hissing sound was coming from the bathroom and Molly scrambled out of bed, rushing in to investigate. Sherlock was standing, shirtless, in front of the mirror, examining his scorching red back and arms. A man Sherlock may be, but he didn't handle pain or illness well. He seemed to transform into a child needing constant care and attention. He noticed her watching him from the mirror and gave an overly dramatic sigh.

"I still fail to understand how the sun did not affect you in any way."

He was looking at her perfectly tanned, but not burnt, arms and legs. Molly smiled with pride as she came to stand next to him.

"It's called sunscreen, Sherlock. I _told _you to put some on, didn't I?"

Sherlock gave an annoyed sigh and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Yes. But, I do not _need _it."

Molly rolled her eyes at his stubbornness and decided to leave him to it, despite his pouting and, rather loud and irritating, sighing. Molly yawned and threw a few things she found into her suitcase, picking up clothing items and dressing as she did. She was halfway through buttoning her top when she noticed her phone in the corner of the room. Molly gasped as she had completely forgotten she had brought it with her. She clicked it open and frowned slightly when noticed she had 14 missed calls and four texts from Sidney. **What could this be about? It must be important. What a nice kid to keep me in the loop.** She breathed deeply, sitting on the edge of the bed as she opened the messages. The first one had been sent the day they had left. In fact, it was only a few hours after Molly was due at work. **Honestly, he should read the memos. Mike should have told him, or at least his father! He is in charge after all…**

_Hello. It's your good friend, Sidney! I was just wondering if you're alright, you're not at work. Obviously, you know that. I was thinking of popping round with that coffee I promised. I'll bring some soup if you're ill, as well. Please, call me x Sidney x_

The first one was the sent the day they had left. Molly racked her brains trying to remember if she had agreed to a coffee with Sidney. Shrugging, she smiled at his sweetness, failing to see that it screamed 'stalker'. The second text message was sent a few hours after the first and Molly felt sorry for the boy.

_Hi, it's me again, Sidney. You still haven't answered me, and I'm starting to think you're avoiding me! I'm not a freak, you know. I'm just getting a bit worried about you…you're the only one at this hospital I can understand and if anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do…please call me, Molly. x Sidney x_

Molly bit her lip. **This kid needs to get a grip. He seems a little…lost and pathetic. **If Molly had cause for concern in the second text, it was nothing compared to the third.

_Hiya. Ok, since you seem too busy to talk to me to tell me how you are, I tracked down Dr. Stamford (which was no easy task; he had meetings all day and I waited for 4 hours outside for him!) and he explained you were having 'personal' time off. What does that mean? Are you ok? I dropped by your flat earlier to see if you were in. No one was there so I waited three hours to see if you showed up. You didn't, naturally. Please call me…x Sidney x_

Molly was actually frightened to read the fourth and final text from Sidney but took a deep breath and opened the message. She regretted it instantly. This was pure creepy.

_Look, this isn't on now. I am just concerned for you because I care. I know I probably shouldn't have, but I went to 221B Baker Street. I saw Holmes scrawl it on a piece of paper once, with 'address' written above it. Maybe he dropped it or something…I assumed it must be his. Anyway, when I arrived, this old woman answered and said Holmes wasn't in. I waited until she had gone and I broke into his flat, just to see if he wasn't holding you prisoner or something. I found nothing, not even that Doctor Wilson or Watkins or whatever it was. After a subtle investigation, I returned to the hospital and borrowed your file, I knew you wouldn't mind. After all, I'm only concerned for your safety! I found a handwritten note about some full body examination from someone called The Consulting DeSEXtive (pervert if you ask me, I, personally, would have gone for The SEXpert, but it would be up to you, of course). I realised this must be in the wrong file as it couldn't be yours so I burned it for you. No need to thank me. I'll see you real soon. Hope wherever you are, you're ok. Be safe and come back to me soon x Sidney x_

Molly stared in disbelief at her phone for a few moments before dropping it to the floor. Sherlock, hearing the crash, came to the door to investigate. He had managed to dress himself, and was looking around wearily. His powers of deduction allowed him to identify the source of the crash. With glance at Molly, he knew something had her worried, no petrified. Sherlock retrieved the phone and read the messages with a deep frown on his face. These messages had come _before _the conversation he had with the student. He sighed as he sat down next to her.

"Well, this means that you will be more inclined to believe me when I tell you that he is bad news. Yesterday, he called me and informed me that he was at your flat, in bed with you. It was satisfyingly amusing when you appeared begging for me."

Molly noticed the smirk in his tone and on his features but she still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. How could her seemingly sweet student be capable of such…sadistic and creepy thoughts? A soft knock sounded against the door and Sherlock strode to open it, stepping aside to allow John and Mary entry to the room. They heaved their bags into the room, and collapsed into the chairs, panting and fanning themselves. John eyed Sherlock's gentle, slower movements, still sore from the sun's burning marks.

"Um…thanks for the camera back, Sherlock. We really appreciate your contribution of footage."

Sherlock had grown accustomed to John's type of sarcasm but couldn't help but smirk to himself. John clapped his hands and whistled to himself, searching for something to say. Sherlock took Molly's phone and tossed it in his direction without a word. John, also speechless, read through the texts open mouthed and Mary tutted every now and again as she read through.

"That kid's got some nerve! He's a right little creep."

Molly gave a small nod and Sherlock looked triumphant, even though he tried to hide this. Sherlock glanced at his watch and ushered them to their feet.

"We should get going. We shall be back in London soon and we can confront him ourselves."

John swallowed but Molly and Mary looked determined and nodded eagerly. John really wasn't one for confrontations, despite being an army doctor. He preferred it when everyone could live in peace. **This is going to end badly…**

Arriving in London a few hours later, the four of them decided they were just too tired to confront Sidney immediately. John helped Mary to her flat whilst Sherlock accompanied Molly back to hers. The lift wad broken again, so Sherlock had the ever-so delightful task of heaving her heavy bags up the stairs. Breathing heavily, he dropped them at the top and dragged them to her front door. Sherlock stopped dead in front of the door. It had been forced. He gestured for her to keep quiet as he stealthily pushed the door open and took a look around.

"Well, there's no one here but it is one hell of a mess."

Molly cautiously tiptoed and threw her hand to her mouth in shock. Her furniture was in shreds, as if it had been slashed. Her documents, papers, books and assorted DVD collection was strewn about the floor, cracked, snapped and ripped in piles. Bookcases had been knocked over and her TV had been thrown to the floor. Her pictures had been thrown to the floor and cracked. Several of them even appeared to be missing. Down the hall, clothes had been dropped and pulled apart. Sherlock noticed it seemed to be the ones she wore on special occasions, including their 'game' nights. Molly had ran into the hall and was cradling her cat, silent tears falling down her face. She frantically felt his body; he had a pulse, but it was faint. Molly could have screamed with relief. A thud sounded next to her and Molly turned to see the cat carrier had been placed next to her. She turned just in time to see Sherlock picking up her bags and walking towards the door. She wiped her eyes and called out softly.

"Where…are you…going?"

Sherlock took one last look around before focusing on a free space in front of him.

"221B. If you think for one second you are staying here tonight, Molly, you are much mistaken. Now come on, in case Mr. Smith comes back."

Molly scrambled to her feet and she carefully placed Toby in his carrier. She hurried over to him, already feeling safer. Molly embraced him tightly and kissed his cheek fondly. Sherlock ignored the fuzzy feeling that had settled in his stomach and nodded at her, taking Toby from her.

"Oh my God, what happened here?"

They whipped around to find John standing at the door, staring open-mouthed at the mess around them. Sherlock cleared his throat and spoke to John.

"Take Molly back to the flat, I just need to get a few things for her. All she had is the items of clothing from the holiday and London's weather seems inappropriate for such dress. Also…" he strode into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of cat food and Toby's bowl. He returned and handed them to John, "this is for the cat. I would advise you ring the vet. I shall return after I have collected the items."

John nodded and ushered Molly out of the flat. She mouthed a 'thank you' at Sherlock before being led gently from the room. Sherlock hurried to the bedroom and rummaged through her things to try and find something, _anything _she could. He noticed, with a sickening lurch, nearly all of Molly's underwear had disappeared as well as her hairbrush, make up and a pair of shoes. He ran around frantically, throwing things into one of Molly's few bags she had left.

"Molly, darling, is that you? I'm home."

Sherlock froze, hate and anger filling him to the brim. It was the cold, cruel voice of Sidney. He had returned to see of Molly had seen his 'token of his love'. Sherlock straightened up and stepped into the living room. Sidney looked at him like a confused child, tilting his head and blinking repeatedly.

"You? What are you doing here? Where's my Molly?"

Sherlock resisted the urge grab Sidney around the throat and throttle him until he lost consciousness. Instead, he met his cold gaze with his calming, blue chilled out one.

"She's safe."

Sidney shook his head violently, screwing his face up and clutching the sides of his head.

"No, no NO! That is MY job, I am the one who worries about that. ME! Not you, who are you? You cannot decide Molly's fate. TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!"

Before Sherlock could say anything, Sidney lunged forwards, a scalpel in his hands. The deranged man ran towards the collected man, swinging his arms around dementedly. Sherlock watched and dodged out of Sidney's way, pushing him against the wall. During this scuffle, however, Sidney had been writhing and flailing violently and Sherlock found it almost impossible to differentiate whose hands were whose. Sherlock reached out to grab Sidney's scalpel arm, but missed and was instead caught by the harsh, sharp metal. Sherlock gave a gasp of pain and stepped back to examine his hand. Shining red liquid dripped from the painful gash across the back of Sherlock's hand, falling to the floor. Sidney smirked and took and step forwards, taking his chance to finish off the consulting detective. Sherlock, who had previously been unaware his injury had forced him to his knees, stood and, quickly yet painfully hard, struck Sidney square in the face. Sidney yelped in pain and dropped the scalpel. Sherlock kicked it aside and grabbed Sidney's collar, shoving him against the wall. Sherlock could no longer stop himself. His hands closed around Sidney's throat and tightened, choking the evil bastard where he stood. Sidney smirked but Sherlock was too busy to notice. Sidney acted too quickly; there was no time for a reaction. The plant pot had just been sitting there after all. He gasped for breath as he scrambled to his feet, the unconscious detective at his feet, a pool of blood forming where he had been struck. After catching his breath, Sidney retrieved his scalpel and bent over Sherlock. He was distracted by a buzzing from the detective's pocket.

_Incident at Bart's. See you there. Molly's fine, don't worry. JW_

Sidney pocketed the detective's phone with a smirk and prepared to leave. He heard a groaning behind him and realised Sherlock was coming around. He quickly dragged him over to the radiator, and roughly handcuffed him to the bottom. Sidney left quickly, wanting to reach Bart's before the doctor. **Maybe the Doctor will be more co-operative and tell me where my Molly is. The world is trying to keep us apart. I will find you, my love…**

_Ok, first things first, I have NEVER written a full on fight scene like that before, so I am sorry if it was terrible. Secondly, this chapter was just to give you an idea into Sidney's twisted mind and how far he will go. He really is quite…something, isn't he? Lastly, thank you so much for reading, even if it was unbearable, lol. (: Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it :) xx Back soon and it will be Sidney vs John, ;p. Will he discover where they're 'hiding his Molly'? Stay tuned xx_


	15. John Watson to the Rescue!

_Hello again, guys. I can't tell you how much I love you guys for these fabulous reviews and for just reading. It's amazing, really. Thank you all so much. xx Anyway, if you're looking for redemption for Sidney, you've come to the wrong chapter, lol… xx_

A painful throbbing sensation in the corner of his head brought Sherlock back into consciousness. He reached up to investigate what was causing the pain, only to discover his wrists were restrained. They had been handcuffed to the bottom of the radiator using handcuffs. He noticed them as Lestrade's police issued set; he and Molly had 'borrowed' them so they had probably been lying around her flat somewhere. Sherlock shook his head, trying to get rid of the dizziness he felt. This did nothing to help and he gave a cry of pain. After a few moments of trying to organise his thoughts and stop the dizziness, he heard the sound of someone above him clearing their throat. He looked up, unfocused, and could faintly make out the outline of Lestrade standing over him, looking worried. He cautiously approached and bent down to release Sherlock. Stepping back, Lestrade watched as Sherlock got unsteadily to his feet, gripping the wall tightly, breathing in and out slowly.

"He's gone…must find him…before he…gets to…Molly."

Lestrade blinked in confusion, still taking in the sight of a disorientated Sherlock, bloodied and bruised. He caught up quickly and shuffled on his feet.

"It's ok…Molly told me everything on the phone. She asked me to come and check on you. Good job she did, really."

Sherlock appeared to not be listening, his eyes fighting to stay open. He turned to Lestrade, stepping away from the wall and swaying on the spot slightly.

"We need…to get to…that hospital, what's it called?" He shook his head, softly, "doesn't matter. Jack…_John's _in danger!"

Lestrade gripped Sherlock's arm as he attempted to pass. This was partly to stop him leaving and partly to steady him. His voice was firm when he spoke.

"The only place _you're _going is back to your flat. I'll drop you off on the way. I'll check on John."

Sherlock couldn't protest even if he wanted to, so gave up and nodded. The joint pains in his head and hand were too much to bear. Besides, Lestrade had a gun…

John arrived outside Bart's and was shocked to discover that it was partially destroyed. Well, only the morgue had been affected. **Shit! All of Molly's work, gone, just like that. **After informing a young officer he was on first name terms with the Detective Inspector, John ducked under the police tape and cautiously went down the steps. The supply cupboard, which was once a great source of distress for John but immense pleasure for his two friends, was burned to the ground but didn't seem to be where it had started. John sighed as he thought about that cupboard. He couldn't count the number of times he walked in to find Molly pinned against the wall, her lab coat at her feet with her legs entwined around Sherlock's waist, their mouths joined fiercely. He shook his head with a sigh as he passed. The most bizarre and uneasy thought entered his head just then and he groaned. **She's staying at the flat…goodbye peaceful nights! **He walked down the corridor and noticed how the walls became blacker the further he walked and a horrible sinking feeling settled in his stomach. The doors were incredibly damaged and, carefully, he pushed them open to reveal the destroyed morgue room. He placed his hand over his face as the fumes were still present. He stepped over melted hospital equipment and burnt files and bits of broken microscope. Sherlock's microscope. The firemen had finished their investigations for the day and John was alone. Well, he _assumed _he was alone, which is why he jumped when the doors were swung open, carelessly.

"Jesus…I thought you'd gone home."

John whipped around and found not a fireman but a small man standing with a cap pulled low over his eyes. John narrowed his eyes and he recognised the man as Sidney.

"What are you doing here?"

Sidney laughed and pulled the cap off. John gasped as he saw Sidney's injuries, probably from the fire. John swallowed and lowered his hand, taking care not to take deep breaths.

"You need to see a doctor…"

"Well, that's why I'm here, John, to see a doctor. Your detective friend wasn't very co-operative. So, I'm going to make you a deal. Tell me where Molly is and I'll let you go…if not…I'm going to get very cross."

John blinked slightly. **Has this idiot seriously forgotten the day he went to Baker Street to see if we had kidnapped Molly? **John wasn't about to remind him.

"She's safe."

Sidney didn't seem to like this answer. He let out a loud yell and stomped his feet like a child. John took a step back, unsure of what to expect. Sidney's cold eyes settled on John and spoke in a deathly tone.

"No, she will never be safe…until she's with me. I love her, I will keep her safe."

John clenched his fists and tried to remain calm as he reasoned with the young student.

"In my experience, people in love don't destroy the recipient of that love's place of work or trash their flat."

Sidney turned around, shaking his head furiously and speaking so fast, John really had to listen.

"Holmes…Holmes made me do it. It was him, not me. He hid her from me, took her…made up lies about the two of them…tried to throw me off the scent…I'll find her…didn't mean to…accident…"

John was frantically searching for something to hit Sidney with. There were heavy pieces of the shattered microscope just behind where he stood. John began to take small steps forward, carefully avoiding kicking broken pieces of equipment. Sidney whipped around suddenly and gave a yell when he saw John crouched on the floor, a metal object in his hand. John didn't move fast enough and was thrown backwards with such surprising force coming from such a small person. Winded, John clutched his chest and stood up, Sidney had doubled over in pain; no doubt from the burns he had received. As soon as he caught his breath, John broke into a frenzied run towards the maniac. He tackled him to the ground and held him down. Sidney struggled but was no match for the tough army doctor.

"No…one hurts…my friends…"

Sidney smirked as he attempted to get away. John's hands had found their way around Sidney's neck and were squeezing none too gently. **Not this time, you bastard.**

"John? Are you here?"

A spilt second was all Sidney needed as John looked towards the sound of the voice from the end of the corridor. His hands loosened and Sidney threw him off and was on his feet, running in the direction of the exit. John breathed heavily as he heard a shout followed by a screech of pain from the Inspector. John couldn't help but roll his eyes. Lestrade entered the room a few minutes later, looking angry.

"Little shit's faster than he looks. Just managed to get my gun but he'd scarpered. I think I managed to grab hold of something before he threw me off. Gave me a little gift before he left, though," he gestured at his eye, which John saw had started to go purple, "You ok?"

John nodded, taking Lestrade's offered hand, pulling him to his feet. John looked around the room, as if looking for a clue as to where Sidney was going.

"Somehow, I don't think we've heard the last of him."

Lestrade shook his head, ruffling his hair. He sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

"I don't know about you, but I need a drink."

John sighed and nodded, walking beside the Inspector. He paused before the exit and picked up Sherlock's phone. Sidney must have dropped it as he passed Lestrade. He was still on high alert after Sidney's visit but didn't think he'd be smart enough to have any new leads. **A drink sounds like a good idea right about now…**

Sherlock rushed as fast as he could which, in his current condition, turned out to be very slowly indeed, upstairs to his flat. Reaching the top and pulling the door open as swiftly as possible without toppling back down the stairs, he staggered into the room.

"Mol…Molly…Molly."

It was getting an effort to stand now. Sidney had hit him much harder than first thought…not to mention the back of his hand stung like nothing he had ever experienced. Molly rushed from his bedroom and hurried to his side, supporting him and leading him to the sofa, trying not to notice how much blood was pouring from a cut above

"Oh my God, Sherlock, what did he do to you?"

She received no answer and wasn't altogether surprised to find him unconscious. Her medical training kicked in and she ran to the medicine cupboard and was thankful to John's resourcefulness as she highly doubted Sherlock was the one who kept it stocked. Molly breathed in and returned to the living room and set out healing her injured lover. She smiled to herself as she realised he had stayed awake long enough to ensure she was safe.

Hours passed while Sherlock slept and Molly kept a close eye on him. It was late evening when he finally woke up. He looked around hastily and relaxed when he spotted Molly reading her book in John's chair. He breathed out softly and relaxed back into the cushions around him. He quietly watched her for a moment; she had changed into her pyjamas and her hair was down, falling over her shoulders. Toby was curled softly on her lap, apparently almost fully recovered. Sherlock's breath as he noticed Molly's slightly tanned legs were bare and stretched in front of her.

"It's rude to stare, you know."

Sherlock was pulled back into reality and he raked his gaze back up her body until he met her soft brown eyes. He be hurting, but Sherlock still managed his most favourite smirk.

"You have never complained before."

Molly put her book down and gently removed Toby from his comfortable sleep. As she stood up, her nightie settled just below her backside, giving Sherlock more of her lovely legs. He swallowed as she sat opposite him, a sincere look in her eyes. She reached out to his face and gently caressed the spot above his eye she had carefully treated hours earlier. He shivered at her touch and sat up so he was face to face with her. He took her hand and looked into her eyes.

"Molly, if today's events have taught me anything, it is the fact that I have come to realise I cannot lose you. Nor do I intend to."

Molly smiled and leaned in to kiss him, gently yet passionately. She wound her hands in his hair and felt a thrill shoot through her as she felt his hands smoothing down her sides and settling on her upper thighs. She moaned before pulling back and looking at him, cupping his cheeks.

"Listen to me, Sherlock Holmes, I love you…you know that, I always have and I always will."

Sherlock looked at her properly and had just one thing to say.

"Why? I am not a man you should be surrendering your heart to. I cannot give you what you want or what you need. I am not the person who gives flowers or chocolates. I cannot understand how you can say that. I am cold, cruel and…entirely un-loveable."

Molly shook her head furiously and moved to grip his wrists. She looked at him with a soft and loving expression.

"Ever since I met you, before you even spoke in that dashing voice of yours, I fell in love with you. You ask me why? I'll tell you why. When I looked into your eyes, I saw the person on the _inside_, the one who will do anything to protect his friends. That man…and the man on the outside; the brooding, calculating, sexy and intelligent person. It's you…just you. Anyone else…they'd want you to change…to lose the attitude and gain people skills. Let me tell you something…if you ever change who you are, Sherlock Holmes, I will do everything I can to bring it back out in you. You are unique…and I love you…_you_…because of that reason."

Sherlock could take it no longer. He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her desperately, putting as much emotion as he could into it. Molly knew her feelings would never be returned but if she could devote the rest of her life proving to him of her own then she would in an instant. He gently caressed her back and kissed down her neck, savouring every taste and sensation.

"Sidney's dangerous…I'm sorry…I should have warned you…"

He breathed into her skin, causing her to moan and grip the back of his head, remaining wary of his painful head. She slipped her hands down to his buttons and began pulling furiously. Once she had practically ripped the shirt open, she moved her mouth down his body, teasingly slowly, and Sherlock's hands were working on her nightie.

"It's ok…we all do…foolish things when…we're in love."

Her breath on his skin also caused a moan and Molly moved, if possible, even closer. Whilst he attacked her neck again, Molly smoothed his hair and moved her free hand down to his belt. Sherlock kissed the spot behind her ear, whispering softly to her.

"Foolish, yes…not psychopathic…you do not see me…running around blowing up…hospitals and trashing…flats…"

Molly opened her eyes suddenly and pulled back looking into his blackened eyes. **What did he mean by 'you do not see 'me''? I mentioned Sidney was foolish for being in love and he compared himself…no, it can't be. I must have misheard him. **Sherlock was looking at her, both panting heavily. He seemed to have realised what he had said. He gulped. There was no going back now. A grin was already spreading onto Molly's face as Sherlock cleared his throat, sitting up so he came face to face with Molly.

"I…love you, Doctor Hooper. Now, kindly lie back so we can finish what we started."

He flicked his eyebrow upwards but Molly ignored him. Instead, she flung herself forwards and met his lips, toppling them backwards. He broke away and looked at her flushed face.

"Oh, you're a _bad _girl, Doctor Hooper."

"Only for you, Mr. Holmes."

As was expected by now, they were interrupted by a drunk John entering the flat. He sat down in his chair, looking slightly uneasy. Molly rolled to the side and snuggled next to Sherlock, who looked incredibly annoyed.

"What's the matter with you?"

John looked around and immediately jumped to his feet defensively.

"What…does that…supposed to…mean? I just…we went…it was just…a drink…nothing happened!"

John, who was growing red, staggered off to his bedroom, mumbling incoherent words. Sherlock shrugged and pulled Molly back onto him.

"Shall we continue?"

Molly giggled and gently pushed him.

"What about our flatmate?"

Sherlock sighed and pulled her to his lips, kissing her passionately.

"Well, he's drunk…but do watch the volume…just in case."

She playfully punched his arm and sat up, slowly pulling her nightie over her head. She winked at Sherlock and gestured at him.

"Help me with the bra, will you?"

Molly had never seen someone move so fast in her entire life…

_I think it was about DAMN time to get to the feelings bit, don't you? Ok, so, Sidney got away and I can promise you, we haven't seen the last of him just yet, which I know so many of you will be pleased to hear, lol. xx Thank you guys for reading and stay tuned, cause more is yet to come :D xx_


	16. A Day In The Life of John Watson

_Hello again, and welcome back! Thank you so much for all your kindness for this story…its wonderful! :) xx This is much darker than usual, so be prepared :s . Anyway, let's continue, shall we…? xx_

**_Molly entered the cold warehouse, looking around her apprehensively. She had thrown on her clothes quickly; sensible jeans, trainers and a t-shirt under a simple coat. She moved tentatively and every gust of wind and squeak of late night wildlife made her jump but Molly wasn't about to give up now. She took a deep breath and moved further into the room, her eyes swivelling around the room. She stopped in the middle of the room and looked around slowly, searching for something. She swallowed yet again, her mouth very dry. Her voice echoed as she called in a panicked voice._**

**_"I'm here, like you asked. We can talk now just like you wanted."_**

**_A cold laugh echoed around her and Sidney jumped down from one of the top shelving around them. She noticed his face was still healing from the fire. He stepped closer to her and Molly watched him cautiously. He smiled and looked her up and down, licking his lips, an action that made Molly squirm with unease._**

**_"Hello, Molly, it's lovely to see you. There's no need to be afraid, my darling, I will never hurt you like him. I must say, you're looking fine tonight."_**

**_Molly frowned and took a frightened step away from the approaching madman. Sidney smiled maliciously but stayed where he was, his hands going to his pockets._**

**_"Sherlock has never hurt me. Not on purpose, he can't help it. Anyway, that's all in the past. We are together and happy. He's making an effort…"_**

**_Sidney's eyes flashed with anger and he let out a roar of rage. Molly was sure she was in danger but the possibility of convincing him to leave them alone was too good to walk out on. Sidney was flailing around like some mad fool, shouting at the top of his voice._**

**_"I am the one who loves you, Molly, not him. I ALWAYS HAVE!"_**

**_Molly clenched her fists as she sensed her own anger flaring up as she turned on Sidney, fury coursing through her veins._**

**_"That's where you're wrong, Sidney, because I know, understand and, most importantly, can tolerate and respect Sherlock. I don't want him to change. If being silent for days on end, or playing the violin at four in the morning means he's around then I can live with that. It helps him to think, stops him going crazy, which in return, stops me going crazy. It doesn't matter, anyway, I don't expect you to understand what Sherlock and I have. It's difficult to explain. I love him and that's all that matters…you cannot get to us now. I will not allow you to."_**

**_Molly turned around to leave, determined to have the last word. She had just stunned Sidney into silence and took this opportunity to leave it at that. Behind her, Molly heard Sidney gasp in shock as though her words had physically injured him. She was almost there, at the door, when it happened…that sound…that loud bang…the last thing she ever heard. It was instant and there was nothing anybody could do as Molly fell to the ground, blood splattered across every surface in the warehouse. The wound in the back of her head was large and Sidney was impressed he had managed it with no marksman training whatsoever. He lowered the gun slowly, and threw it behind him, breathing heavily. He swept menacingly forwards and watched as Molly lay at his feet, her once soft and kind eyes, full of love for someone that wasn't him, now blank and unseeing. A tear fell from his face as he knelt beside her, smoothing his hand over her face, closing her eyes. He smirked to himself._**

**_"You're all mine, now, Molly Hooper…"_**

Sherlock jolted awake, toppling off the sofa. He hated that he was shaking from the result of this violent nightmare. **It was a nightmare, was it not? **He glanced to his left to see Molly sleeping soundly next to him. How he hadn't woken her up. Sherlock was covered in a layer of sweat and this damn shaking wasn't ceasing. He moved silently into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. **This is new.** It certainly was new. He had dreamed of Molly before, of course, but not in this way. He sat at the table, and closed his eyes, his hands placed beneath his chin. He thought about…well, everything. Why this nightmare had occurred, why it had never happened before, why John was so defensive when he returned from his night out with Lestrade. The last question didn't even bother him, he was just curious. He must have been thinking for quite some time because the next thing he knew, he was hearing the hungover groaning of his flatmate.

"Morning."

John had grunted this rather than spoke as he poured some water and swallowed some hangover tablets. Sherlock frowned and glared at John.

"It is your own fault, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Thanks for the sympathy."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He hated hungover John, it wasn't very entertaining. He was annoying at the best of times. Molly stirred on the sofa, rolling over, and Sherlock lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Anyway, what happened last night?"

John raised his eyebrows. He sipped his water and turned to the detective, a look of confusion on his face. Sherlock couldn't resist a smirk. **Ah, he is going to feign ignorance.**

"I don't know what you mean."

Sherlock prepared to recite the entire conversation from last night, specifically using John's words of 'nothing happened' when such a question had never been asked in the first place. At that moment, Molly woke and was moving into the kitchen. She was wearing one of Sherlock's old shirts and she moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing up and down his chest under his dressing gown, kissing his neck and ears. She didn't seem to notice, or care, that John was in the room as she whispered into Sherlock's ear, low and seductively.

"That was something else, last night, Mr. Holmes. Very good."

Sherlock smirked to himself as she kissed behind his ear. He swallowed and gripped the table to stop himself from turning around to face Molly and proceeding to traumatise poor John.

"Hmmm, I cannot take all the credit, the first time…was very satisfying from where I was."

Molly's hands had moved to his hair now and John wished he could just slip into his bedroom to avoid the world as he got over his alcohol induced illness.

"Possibly the best sex we have ever had, wouldn't you agree? Even that third time when you had insisted John's chair was sturdy enough."

John buried his face in his hand, still clutching his cup in his other hand. **Great, another piece of furniture I'll have to throw out. **Sherlock contemplated her words for a moment and grinned turning slightly to Molly, relishing how her hands felt in his hair.

"I must agree but we mustn't wait too long to test this theory again."

John was on the verge of insanity, he was sure of it. He barely caught the sentence uttered by Molly – 'I fancy a shower, don't you?' – as he moved into the living room to settle on the sofa. As he was being dragged off, Sherlock, who was grinning smugly, looked at John.

"Don't look like that, it is not like we haven't done it there before," John looked at him as quickly as he could without it hurting. Sherlock chuckled slightly as he noticed John's horrified expression, "oh, come on, how do you think it became 'un-sturdy' in the first place?"

John looked into the remainders of his drink and wondered if the small amount in there was enough to drown him. Sherlock smirked towards him and heard Molly huff impatiently. Sherlock turned to walk away but had just one more thing to say to John.

"Oh, and one more thing, about your 'adventures' last night, there is no need to worry, I shall not inform Mary. Unless, she asks although this seems highly unlikely."

Before John could even so much as gulp, he heard Sherlock running after Molly, who had left impatiently. John leaned back in the sofa and rubbed his head, wishing the pain would disappear.

Sidney slammed the front door and ran up the stairs, ignoring his father's stuttering calls of where he had been all morning. He had been patrolling the streets of London, looking for signs of Sherlock, John or his Molly. He had avoided Scotland Yard, punching a senior police officer and causing a black eye doesn't make you very popular down there. He reached his bedroom and locked the door firmly behind him. His room was average sized and his desk, wardrobe and bed were the only pieces of large furniture he possessed. He strolled over to his desk and peered out of the window in front of it. He scoffed as he saw many people going about their daily lives, oblivious to life's perils around them. He whirled around in his chair. He sighed loudly. **I need to think. What can I do? **He looked towards his desk drawer and swallowed as his hands began shaking. **No, slow down, Sidney, you don't want to overdo it. **He slammed his head down hard on the desk and shut his eyes, trying to think. **I can't concentrate, I need to concentrate to find Molly. She needs me…**

"Oh, fuck it."

He wrenched the drawer open and pulled out a large bag. He searched through it; syringes and pipes where dismissed as the urge was not extreme. He settled for the white powdered substance and a rolled up piece of paper. As Sidney opened the bag and scattered it on the desk, he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"S-S-Sidney? Are you alright? I-I-I've been worried, you're not a-a-answering your phone."

"Fine."

Sidney was aware his voice sounded strangled as he placed one of the rolled up paper to the table and the other to his nose, with shaky hands. The withdrawal was getting intense, his mouth was going dry and his hands were shaking, really shaking.

"Ok…well, l-l-let me know if y-y-you would like anything to e-e-eat."

Sidney sat up straight and relished the warmth as it spread throughout his body. His fingers and toes tingled with the sensation and he smiled maliciously. The room transformed around him and everything became clear. He stood up unsteadily and walked over to his wardrobe. He pulled out the phone that was partially destroyed by the fire. He removed the SIM card, with great difficulty, and placed it, with even greater difficulty, into his new phone. It was lucky the explosion had only affected the outer layer of the phone or his new plan would be ruined. He smiled in satisfaction as saw Molly's number from his old SIM card and saved it to his new phone. **She will talk to me. I'm sure I can find a means of…****_persuasion _****to bring her to me…**

Molly giggled as Sherlock picked her up and placed her on the kitchen counter, attacking her exposed legs and feet with, tickling her with the softness of his lips. After their 'shower', Molly hadn't seen the reason to change out of Sherlock's purple shirt. Molly sighed in frustration as he always stopped at the top of her legs before trailing slowly back down; his fingers have now joined the path of his lips. Molly tilted her head back and savoured the feelings.

"No lunch for me, thanks."

They turned towards the living room and wondered if John had just walked into the living room or if he had been sat in there the whole time. Sherlock reluctantly pulled away and helped Molly off the counter. He frowned towards John.

"I thought you had gone out."

"No, still here, although you wouldn't know it, would you?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John who hadn't taken his eyes away from his paper. Molly, meanwhile, had received a text message and was currently being ignored by the two men, who, it seemed, were determined to start a domestic. Molly stared horrified at the message, unable to believe it.

_I have been patient with you, my love. This is about us. It is important you come to the old abandoned warehouse around the corner from St. Bart's tonight at midnight. I miss you. Please come. If you don't, I will find you and drag you there myself… x Sidney x_

Sherlock and John were now engaged in an argument and were too busy to notice that Molly was currently tapping on her phone a response.

_Ok. I'll see you then. Molly x_

It was 11:30pm and Molly had managed to sneak out of 221B unseen by both men. A day tackling cases had tired them both out and it had been easy for them to fall asleep. The hardest part of the day was hiding the message and her plan from Sherlock. She had managed it, however, and smiled as she silently dressed. **It's a good job he doesn't ask how I am too often. I am a bad liar. **Molly examined herself in the mirror and made sure she was wearing all black, an important detail. She glanced back at Sherlock as she approached the door, his chest was rising and falling peacefully as he slept, sprawled across the bed. Molly took a deep breath and left the bedroom, pausing at the table beside John's chair. His gun was placed beside it, just lying there. Carefully, Molly picked it up in her gloved hand and dropped it her handbag. **This could be a wonderful means of persuasion. **Without lingering, she strolled, with nervous determination, out of the flat and towards the warehouse.

_Lol, really gotta feel for poor John in this one. :D Ok, guys, thank you so much for reading and sorry for…the mini cliff-hanger. xx I'll be back really soon and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. xx_


	17. Showdown

_Hello again guys! Thank you so much for your kind support for this story! It means so much to me, it really does. xx I love you all! I think you are going to enjoy this one… xx_

Sherlock woke in a cold sweat; the same dream again. This one was different, this time. Instead on a gun, this instance had been Sidney's hands crushing her windpipe as he laughed cruelly, killing Molly and, strangely, kissing her afterwards, claiming what is his. Not wanting to wake Molly, Sherlock exited the bedroom without the aid of the light and entered the living room. It was these dreams that told him how much he cared for Molly and what she meant to him…he didn't want to lose her. He wanted to tell her…show her how much she meant to him. He turned back into the bedroom and flicked the light on.

"Molly, I-"

His eyes scanned the room and discovered she wasn't there. Panic set in, which was unusual for him, and he sank into the nearest chair. The rational side of his brain kicked in and he narrowed his eyes in deep thought. Sherlock's brain calculated different scenarios which required Molly to leave the safety of 221B. All of them came to the conclusion of Sidney. **Molly probably feels she needs to stop him, she feels at fault for not returning his ridiculous feelings. There had to be something here that tells me where she's gone to meet him. She took her phone, not that stupid. What then? There's got to be something…there's always ****_something…_**

The walk to the warehouse wasn't a long one and by the time she reached her destination, Molly had begun to doubt her confidence. It was easy enough to say you were going to confront your stalker, but actually _doing _it was a different matter. She stood outside the looming building, pulling her coat around her tighter and clutching her bag. **Come on, Molly! Remember why you're doing this, if you can convince Sidney to leave you alone…you might not even have to use the gun to help. Just talk to him…keep him talking. **Molly walked forwards slowly and slipped inside the deserted building, anxiously looking behind her as she did so. Taking deep breaths, Molly moved slowly and cautiously, swivelling her eyes around the room as she did so. A squeal of delight from somewhere in front of her caused Molly to jump in fright, whirling around on the spot. Jumping down from a high shelf, Sidney was suddenly in view, his eyes wide and hands shaking violently, an evil, twisted smile on his face.

"Molly…it seems you…have been avoiding me."

Molly swallowed and decided not to say anything. It was clear he was off his head and initiating conversation would do nothing at this point. Sidney, apparently, wasn't waiting for an answer anyway.

"All I have ever wanted…to do is protect you. To keep you safe and now…," Sidney gestured wildly around him as Molly continued to watch in a nervous silence, "…but do not worry…Holmes will not get to you…again."

Molly frowned as she turned towards the madman. Sidney was swaying on the spot, his eyes seemed to be drooping slightly.

"Why did you blow up the hospital? Your father's business…our work. It's all gone, and I-"

"HE MADE ME! I HAD TO! Please, forgive me, I didn't mean to…Holmes angered me with the lies he was spreading."

Molly looked at the ground for a moment before catching his eyes. They were hazy and wide due to the drugs. Molly realised, as she looked at him, he had brought it all on himself. It was time to stop feeling sorry for him and for him to faced up to what he had done. Molly had been in Sidney's position, once. Hopelessly and desperately in love with someone you could never have…except, for Molly, it had found a way. Sidney wasn't so lucky and he reacted badly. And he had to pay…

"No! They were not lies, Sidney, I really was in France. Sherlock, John and Mary went as well and we had great fun. The way you acted was…out of order."

Sidney smiled a cruel smile and stepped closer, a deadly look hidden in his eyes under the drugs in his system. He looked her up and down before shaking his head lazily and running a careless hand through his hair.

"I'm tired…so tired of just _talking_ and not _doing_. I came here for one thing…and one thing only…and we are not leaving until I _get _it."

He was quick…too quick. Molly felt him before she saw him as she hit the ground hard from the impact of his fist. Spitting blood and head spinning, Molly turned around to find him bent over her…working her skirt upwards. Horrified, Molly aimed a well-timed kick to his crotch, connecting sharply with him. Sidney yelled in pain, doubling over and clutching himself. **I'm glad I wore heels. **Molly scrambled to her feet and pulled her skirt down, gasping for breath and fumbling with the bag that had fallen to the floor. Sidney was soon on his feet and lunging at her again. Molly, however, had managed to free John's gun from her bag and pointed it shakily at Sidney. He stopped dead in front of her, hands up in mock surrender.

"What are you going to shoot me?"

Molly was shaking but kept the gun pointed directly at his head. She swallowed.

"No…I just want you…to listen to me."

Sidney smiled. It was cold, cruel and evil. The kind that belonged to someone…who wasn't quite human.

"Sorry…I don't like to talk."

He lunged forwards again and tackled her to the ground. Molly slapped at his hands, kicking out fiercely, but he effortlessly pinned her arms above her head with one hand. The bag was once again flung across the room. His other hand flew to her neck and squeezed as hard as he could. Molly gasped for air, but nothing came. She struggled harder but he held her tighter. Sidney's horrible laugh filled her ears and Molly's eyes filled with tears as her thoughts filled with images of Sherlock. This gave her an idea, it was her last hope. She clutched his hands as she looked into his eyes, a plea desperate in them.

"Could…could…you…kill…a…baby…Sidney? 'cause…that's…what you'll…be doing…if you…don't stop…"

Sidney snarled at her desperate rasp and bared his teeth, bending to whisper into her ear.

"Then there will be one less unwanted brat on the streets, won't there?"

Molly closed her eyes as the struggling slowed and Sidney released his grasp, staring down at the now completely still pathologist. He bent his head down and placed a tender kiss to her lips. Suddenly, Sidney let out a yelp as his lip was bitten, hard, and his head received a battering. Jumping up and scattering back a distance and blinking back teary eyes, he wiped the blood pouring from his mouth. He looked up, eyes wider than before, if possible, clearly shocked. Molly had climbed to her feet, breathing heavily and once again pointing the gun at him. Sidney frowned as he wiped his mouth furiously while Molly smirked.

"An excellent lung capacity is helpful…singing, swimming and diving practice…courtesy of my father…help towards it, you know…also being the girlfriend of Sher-"

"STOP IT!"

Sidney had stood up and was once again running at her. Before Molly knew what she was doing, before she had time to register what she had done, it was too late. The trigger had been pulled, the bullet leaving the weapon, the sound echoing around the empty warehouse, and Sidney plummeted to the floor, just like that, his last cruel smile plastered to his face. Molly stared in horror at Sidney's body, dropping to her knees, the gun falling to her side. Molly couldn't stop the tears from falling, her hands from shaking or her head from spinning. She looked over Sidney and saw the bullet hole in the middle of his head, causing instant death. Molly clutched her sides as she wept, unable to believe what had just happened and there was only one thought on her mind. **What will Sherlock say?**

"Molly? Molly, are you there?"

Molly lifted her head sharply and stiffened, not daring to breath. It seemed she was about to get an answer to her question…

_Well then…it's all over for our Sidney, but not the story, still got a couple to go…and I literally mean a couple. This is going to go to 20, guys. We may be nearing the end of the journey, but we're not over yet…oh, no. xx I hope you enjoyed this one…let me know what you thought and thank you for reading. Stay tuned xx_


	18. No Turning Back

_Hi, everyone! Thank you as always for the lovely reviews and I am glad to see that you are enjoying the story. xx Without further ado, here is chapter eighteen… xx_

Sherlock had torn 221B apart looking for some kind of suggestion as to where Molly had gone. His eyes and brain had worked overtime looking and it was only when he had reached his wit's end when he, collapsing into a chair and closing his eyes in deep thought, he realised; Molly hadn't left a note. Nothing to suggest where she might have gone in the dead of night. She must have known even Sherlock Holmes would have worried about her. So why didn't she leave a note? He leaned forwards, his fingers pressing hard into the sides of his head, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as he thought. It had to be somewhere familiar…somewhere close. Why go to the trouble of meeting far away? It just had to be close…and this was when he got it. It hit him like a brick. Sherlock snapped his eyes open and ran to the shoe rack…her sensible black shoes were gone. This was a secret message to him…she only wore these on the way to work. St. Bart's…or somewhere in the vicinity. Not a moment later, Sherlock Holmes was hurtling through the streets of London, desperately hoping his nightmare wasn't going to come true…

He tentatively stepped into the warehouse and saw Molly sat on the floor, knees to her chest and staring at her hands. She had been crying and there were various bruises to her face, her clothes torn and hair untidy. The most distinctive thing, however, was the fact that Sidney's body lie next to her. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as he approached her. He remained silent as she rocked back and forth. She stared ahead of her as she spoke, a shaken tone to her voice.

"The one time…the one time I actually pick up a gun…I end up fucking killing someone. A person…I didn't mean to…he was…I couldn't…"

Sherlock watched as she began to shake again, tears falling down her cheeks, and bent down next to her. **This was bound to affect her, even though he deserved it. Molly's heart is overpowering…she sees the person in even the most evil of beings. She is…perfect. **He placed his hands over hers.

"This was not your fault…Sidney has been asking for this to happen. The only thing I am remotely upset about…" he cupped her chin and tilted her head to look into his eyes, "is that I wasn't the one to pull the trigger."

Molly shook her head and she snuggled into him, gripping his strong arms tightly. She sniffed and mumbled into his shirt.

"How can you say that? Your whole life is dedicated to putting criminals behind bars and now I've done this…" she gestured in front of her and reeled off. Sherlock sighed deeply.

"Yes. Criminals, horrible people. You acted in self-defence-"

"The police will not see it that way"

Sherlock swallowed as he realised she was right. There was absolutely no evidence to suggest Sidney caused the explosion at Bart's or trashed her flat. Apart from her injuries, there was nothing and they could easily say she had sustained them elsewhere. They were stupid like that. Even with a man on the inside, as it were, they didn't stand a chance. This was Sidney's final curse…to make sure they suffered, were never free from him. Sherlock stood up and pulled her with him. He wiped Molly's eyes and was shaking his head firmly. He took her shoulders gently and stared at her with piercing blue eyes. He was going to tell her he will help her and do everything he could to prove her innocence. He was interrupted, however, by the sound of police sirens getting closer and eventually stopping outside the warehouse. Quickly, Sherlock pocketed John's gun to spare him the humiliation of a murder probe after they trace the serial number back to 221B. He pulled Molly over to the back of the warehouse, and hid behind large boxes that were partially covered by darkness. To make matters worse the officers that promptly entered the warehouse were none other than Sergeant Sally Donovan and the Detective Inspector. Hearts pounding, they crouched in the shadows of their hiding place. **Who the hell called them? **Sherlock hoped Lestrade would recognise Sidney from the hospital after he had been punched by him. Donovan let out a gasp and Lestrade frowned down at the body.

"Hmmm, I recognise this guy…he was being investigated for the explosion at the hospital. It was dropped after his father provided an alibi…"

Sherlock let out a small sigh. **Of course, that is just typical.** Donovan was shaking her head as she looked at the body.

"He's just a boy…"

Lestrade pursed his lips as he moved around the body, looking at the bullet hole. He stood up after a few minutes and turned to Donovan, his phone already in his hand.

"Get Anderson down here. I want this place cordoned off, not that anyone's likely to go here. I need to make a phone call."

"Sir…we've got this one…we don't need _him_."

Lestrade sighed as he finished tapping and raised the phone to his ear.

"We always need him, Sergeant. That's the thing…we always need him."

For once in his life, Sherlock was glad he had left his phone at 221B in his haste to leave the flat. Lestrade was rubbing his chin, frustratedly pacing. He raised his head as someone answered.

"Hello? John? Why are you answering Sherlock's phone?"

Sherlock hadn't counted on that, John answering his call. He glanced down at Molly who was shaking slightly, staring up at him in fear. Lestrade frowned as his conversation with John continued.

"Well, let me know when he gets in."

Lestrade hung up after and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sir, you've got to see this."

Lestrade moved over to her and Donovan held up Molly's bag. He examined it for a moment before handing it back.

"Nothing in it. That's weird. Argh, if Sherlock were here…that arrogant…"

Lestrade continued to fume as he walked outside, followed by Donovan. This was their chance; he and Molly could slip out of the side entrance while the two officers waited for Anderson to arrive. Sherlock was fairly convinced that moron wouldn't find anything significant. Slipping silently out of the warehouse, they waited until Lestrade and Donovan moved inside with the forensic team before breaking into a run all the way back to 221B.

"Where the hell have you two been? What happened? Are you alright?"

Sherlock hurried Molly into the living room and sat her on the sofa, examining her bruises and injuries. John watched in confusion at Sherlock's wired state and saw the fear and horror in Molly's eyes. When Sherlock was satisfied that Molly was fine, he collapsed onto the sofa next to her, breathing heavily. John sank slowly into his chair as he watched them, growing more confused with each passing second.

"Is someone going to tell me what happened?"

Sherlock sighed and sat up before looking John in the eyes.

"You will not believe this…"

Stan Smith closed the door on the two sorrowful police officers that had arrived at his door in the early hours of the morning. He collapsed against it, sinking to the floor. He buried his face in his hands, tears falling relentlessly from his eyes. No-one wanted to be told their child had been found dead…his son, his only reason left for living…gone. Taken from him by some selfish murderer. The only thing on Stan's mind now, apart from Sidney, was revenge. He wanted nothing more than to watch the person responsible die a most painful death. But first, he had to find out who had killed his son…

"Well…shit…"

John had spent most of the story in shocked silence and now, it appeared, he was still stunned into almost complete quiet. Sherlock tapped his foot anxiously, his brilliant already formulating an idea. John frowned at Sherlock's lack of focus. Molly, however, was so exhausted she had fallen asleep. She twitched and jerked every now and again. Sherlock pulled a blanket over her and took her hand gently. Her twitching seemed to cease and she relaxed into a more comfortable sleep.

"So, what are you going to do?"

John was watching Sherlock as if afraid of the answer. Sherlock, however, turned to John and tilted his head as if the answer was obvious.

"The only thing we can…leave. We will never be safe or left in peace here. It is best if we go where no one knows who we are and nobody can find us."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. **Was Sherlock Holmes running away from his problems? **But then, John saw it, the reason Sherlock had just told him that. The look he had on his face as he watched Molly sleep. **No, he's doing what I would do…protecting the woman he loves.**

"Well, if you think for one second you are doing this alone, you've got another thing coming, Sherlock Holmes."

John smiled at his friend who nodded silently, whispering a 'thank you, John', stroking his girlfriend's face lovingly.

_There we go guys. I wrote part of this while watching The Office finale and I am a mess. Tim and Dawn…ugh! I'm just crying :') I guess that kind of explains the end, lol. xx Anyway, thank you so much for reading and stay tuned for the penultimate chapter :D xx_


	19. The Escape

_Hello again, guys! Ok, then, the penultimate chapter. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it. xx Anyway, before we say goodbye, we've still got a situation to solve… xx _

"Where are you? You're running late."

"I'll be there."

"Don't fuck with me, mate, or you'll regret it. My son has just been brutally murdered. I have no patience remaining."

"I can assure you, sir, you will not regret this."

Stan stood in the alleyway round the corner from his empty house. He threw his phone back into his pocket, taking a long puff of his cigarette. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he thought of the emptiness that now consumed him, mocking him. He blinked furiously as he tapped his pocket, filled to the brim with money. He was determined to find Sidney's killer and if hiring someone to do it for him was the only way, then so be it. He looked up and was shocked to see a tall figure moving towards him. He was clearly tough, his bulging muscles and shaved head suggested so. He was fit, also, not in the least bit fat. He had an extremely stern expression as he placed his hands in his pockets.

"Let's get one thing clear, buddy. Threaten me again and the consequences shall be most severe. Understood?"

Stan nodded with a sigh as he looked into the man's cold, cruel eyes. Stan withdrew the money and handed it to the man. The man pocketed the cash and looked Stan up and down.

"Your son's killer is as good as dead already, Mr. Smith. I shall bring you their head."

Stan gave a small smile, hoping he wasn't being serious. The man began walking away and Stan frowned after him.

"Make it hurt, Mr. Moran."

Moran smiled evilly as he rounded the corner, pulling his coat around him further as he walked briskly down the street.

John flicked the TV on as he made himself breakfast, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. **This is hell. **Sherlock was perched on the sofa with his eyes closed. He had moved Molly into the bedroom last night and stayed with her until she had fallen into a deep sleep. Sleep would not come so easily to him, either. He had stayed up all night figuring something out. He had learned that Lestrade knew the bag was Molly's and he was aware they had been there. He had moved outside to allow them to escape. Sherlock wasn't sure how long he could keep it up but, for now, Lestrade was safe and delaying the eventual inevitable. The news had started and John sat down in his chair.

_"In other news, St. Bartholomew's Hospital in Central London is undergoing its £500,000 renovations this afternoon. The Hospital's basement was blown up two weeks ago in a suspected terrorist attack-"_

"Terrorist attack? Do people know anything anymore?"

Sherlock wasn't listening, it seemed, for his eyes were still closed. John sighed and shifted in his seat slightly. Toby came over and rested on John's lap, sitting on the remote and changing the channel to MTV. John's smiled to himself as he recognised the song.

_"You won't find faith or hope down a telescope_

_You won't find heart and soul in the stars_

_You can break everything down to chemicals_

_But you can't explain a love like ours"_

"John. There is something I need you to do for me."

John sat up straight and switched the TV off, swallowing as he looked at the detective. Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at the floor in front of him.

"Regarding Scotland Yard's investigations. I'd like an update and Lestrade is currently unable to text me. I do not want to arouse suspicion by doing it myself. However, they should have no problem with a trained medical doctor."

John nodded and stood up, standing by the door and turning back towards him. Sherlock, however, remained facing the front.

"You're a good man. You deserve to be happy."

Before Sherlock could look at him, he had vanished. Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and text Lestrade quickly.

_He's gone. Keep him busy for 30 minutes or more. Give me what you can. SH_

The door to Sherlock's bedroom swung open and Molly emerged, looking shaken still, but refreshed. Sherlock sighed as he examined her, standing up and crossing the room.

"Come on, we do not have long."

John looked over medical files as Lestrade informed him that the net was closing in. John frowned and turned to Lestrade.

"Is there nothing you can do?"

Lestrade sighed and ruffled his hair. He finally shook his head.

"There's nothing to suggest foul play on Sidney's part. Even Molly's injuries aren't enough to begin an investigation."

John sighed in frustration. Lestrade was checking his watch anxiously when the door burst open. Donovan rushed in with a smug smile on her face.

"Sir, I think you should see this."

John and Lestrade exchanged glances as they exited his office and followed Donovan. Somehow, she had managed to acquire CCTV footage of a figure running past Bart's hospital and in the direction of the warehouse. The figure was clear for all to see…Sherlock. She turned to the detective.

"I told you about him. I told you one day showing up wouldn't be enough. One day, we'd be standing around a body that he'd put there. That day has come."

Lestrade stood shell shocked for a moment before saying the words John was dreading.

"Bring him in, then."

John raced out of the station with the officers but didn't stop until he reached Baker Street. They had to leave now, the three of them. He'd inform Mary once it was safe. They'd be safe and free from all this wrong and never have to worry again. He tore up the streets and ran up the steps to the flat.

"SHERLOCK? MOLLY? We've got to go they're coming…Sherlock? Molly?"

He searched the rooms quickly before realising…they had already gone. Without him. John felt like he had just lost his best friend as the police came hurtling through the doors, guns pointing into different rooms. Lestrade entered and managed, only just, to conceal his smile and sigh of relief. They had done it. He gave John a sympathetic I-had-to look. Donovan kicked the wall in frustration while John sunk into his chair, numb from loss. Ok, so Sherlock hadn't gone…but he certainly wasn't around anymore. The police began to disperse and John felt crushed by the silence. It was so empty. They couldn't return, and it was Sherlock's name that needed to be cleared before he could. John had a feeling, if it meant that Molly was safe, Sherlock would be ok with that.

_Whoa…ok, so I hope you liked that one. :D One more to go…lol. xx Thank you all so much and stay tuned for the finale xx_


	20. The Aftermath

_Hello and welcome back for the FINAL time, guys! It's been an interesting journey and it would be nothing if it weren't for you…thank you for reading and I hope you have enjoyed it. Now, for the last time, here's the chapter…_

John sat alone in the dark office, clenching and unclenching his fists, thinking to himself. **How had the police known in the first place where the 'murder' had taken place? Someone must have told them. **John could only think of one person who knew basically every goings on in London. This is why he was sitting in this large room, a scowl set on his face, waiting for Mycroft Holmes to return from wherever he had been…

Lestrade knew his shift had finished but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. He was sitting at his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and the remote for the TV in the other. He was reviewing the CCTV tape but found nothing new. Taking a large gulp of drink, he slammed the remote down and rubbed his head. Placing his glass on his desk, Lestrade sighed as he left his office and was surprised to see Sally Donovan shoving something quickly into her bag before turning around and shooting the Inspector a large smile.

"Oh, hi, Sir, I didn't see you there. Um…I was just going. Don't worry about what happened today, we'll catch Holmes."

Lestrade narrowed his eyes and placed his hands in his pockets.

"What makes you so sure Sherlock did it? All we have is a fuzzy image of him running in the direction of the murder scene. It could have been after the murder-"

"No, he did it. You haven't found anything to suggest otherwise."

Lestrade's eyes widened at her choice of word: _you._

"Are we not a team anymore, Sally? What was that you put in your bag?"

"Nothing!"

She had shielded her bag from his view and her voice had become considerably higher. Lestrade wasn't so incompetent to know whether someone was lying or not.

"Oh, Sally, what have you done?"

Donovan looked down as Lestrade slowly took the bag from her. He opened it to find several other tapes inside. He gave her a shocked look.

"I was looking through them and I found nothing…just a woman walking past and a couple of drunk idiots. When I saw Holmes run past…I thought the others wouldn't matter."

Lestrade swallowed at the mention of the 'woman that walked past'. Lestrade knew this was Molly, Sidney's actual killer, and had a duty to put her away. However, considering Sidney deserved his fate, Lestrade had aided her and Sherlock's escape. He turned to Donovan.

"This is a murder investigation! Of course they matter. Do you know how serious this is? Stealing evidence is a crime, Sally."

"I know, sir, look I'll show you…they're unimportant."

She placed the first one in and frowned as they watched the woman walk past. She moved closer and gasped. Lestrade's heart sank when he realised why.

"Pause it! Look, sir, isn't that the handbag that was recovered at the scene?"

Lestrade swallowed as he rubbed the back of his neck, leaning against the desk.

"Um…I don't think so…it's a bit unclear…"

Sally shook her head, tilting it slightly, folding her arms and frowning at the slightly blurry image. Lestrade closed his eyes, praying and hoping she couldn't see it properly.

"No, look, sir, the shape and size are the same. It was her…whoever she is."

Lestrade bit his lip and watched as Sally seemed to be standing at different angles trying to get a better look. Eventually, she shook her head and stepped back.

"Well, sir?"

Lestrade looked up at her and sighed.

"It is for precisely this reason you shouldn't have done what you did. Now, we have…a new lead and we could have missed that because you didn't look properly. We'll discuss this in the morning."

Sally furrowed her brow, slightly, before nodding and collecting her bag.

"Goodnight, sir. I'm sorry. I didn't think…"

Lestrade pursed his lips and nodded as she turned and left the building. Lestrade breathed out deeply before walking around the desk and collapsing into the nearest chair. **Shit! Now what am I going to do?**

Mycroft yawned as he switched the light of his office on. He walked over to his cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine. He nearly jumped when he saw the still figure of John Watson sitting behind his desk. It didn't take a genius to figure out how he got in. His security wasn't up to much these days.

"There are easier ways to get my attention, Doctor."

"Yeah, but I didn't feel like being gagged today, Mycroft. There's something I wanted to ask you, actually. I'm sure you knew about Sidney?"

Mycroft sat in his favourite chair, frowning slightly.

"Yes, his father is…something of a friend of mine. I am aware that his son and my brother…locked horns recently. Over the attentions of that pathologist, am I correct?"

John nodded, clenching his fists again. Mycroft smiled, tapping his fingers against the chair.

"Yes, Sherlock has never been one for sharing."

John sighed and stood up walking over to the window, causing Mycroft to frown again.

"Did you know Sherlock's wanted in suspicion of murder?"

John whipped around to face a shocked looking Mycroft, and his anger increased when Mycroft swallowed and looked down. He traced his finger around the edge of his glass.

"Of course you do, you told the police where to go, didn't you?"

Mycroft looked up into John's furious eyes and sighed again.

"I was…concerned my brother was getting himself into some trouble. I contacted the police when I noticed him running towards the warehouse, yes. I never intended-"

"Since when have you been concerned for Sherlock! HE'S HAD TO LEAVE LONDON! It's all your fault…they could have got out of this…he and Molly would have been fine. Because of you, they couldn't stay. You, Mycroft, you led them right to him."

Mycroft looked down into his lap once more. There was nothing he could say, or do, to show he really had been worried for his brother's safety and thinking the police would reach him in time…he had never thought his plan would have the opposite effect.

"I'm…sorry. Tell him, would you?"

John shook his head, laughing slightly. He was probably thinking John still had contact. John had absolutely no idea where Sherlock was.

"Oh, please."

John turned around and slammed the door behind him, stomping down the stairs and out of the door.

Stan sobbed in front of his son's gravestone, heartbroken and alone. The past three years had been nothing but pain. Revenge was the only reason he remained on this damned planet only to be told there was nothing anyone could do. Moran had disappeared, taking his money and vanishing without doing a damn thing to help him in his quest. He had waited three long years, the police had given up, and there was no hope left. **Fat lot of good he fucking was. I should have known he was a fake. If no one is going to help me find out who killed my son, there's nothing left for it.** Looking around to see if he was alone, tears leaking from his eyes, he placed a gun into his mouth, pulling the trigger without a second thought.

It had been days since Sherlock and Molly left, and John hadn't heard from them at all. Not one word. They were lying low, it was obvious. But for how long? How long did they need? There were moments when he was sure he had seen them, but, of course, his mind betrayed him. Mary insisted he see his psychiatrist but John refused, insisting he was fine. It was ridiculous; they weren't dead, why should he need his therapist? Stan's body had been found at his son's grave, a victim of suicide. This news came as a surprise to John who thought the man seemed to be handling it well. He had offered him support only to be politely rejected. 221B had started to feel very empty and John found he had a very important question to ask Mary.

The days soon rolled into weeks and the hype still showed no sign of dying down. The post-mortem results revealed the time of death was before Sherlock arrived at the scene and the case was thrown into new light, eliminating Sherlock as the perpetrator but not as a witness or accessory. Anderson had been unable to find fingerprint evidence at the scene. The police were baffled, once more, meaning Lestrade was forced to reveal the evidence he and Donovan had stumbled upon. He had narrowly avoided suspension for 'misplacing' evidence and he had managed to keep Donovan from losing her job as well. He had lied to his superiors straight up and completely denied Donovan's involvement, shocking John and Sally. One day, John had gone to see Lestrade only to accidentally wander in on the moment Donovan was 'thanking' the Inspector for his discretion. It was then, John questioned his tendency to walk in at precisely the wrong moments.

The weeks turned into months. Mary had moved into 221B without hesitation and the two of them had settled down comfortably. Mary provided John with the perfect distraction from his worry. He was so pleased to have her help him through this. He really and truly loved her. The reporters had dispatched themselves outside the flat, now, as it was leaked that Sherlock was caught on CCTV. It wasn't long after that the anonymous, elusive woman on the CCTV was revealed to the press, who dubbed her 'the Handbag Killer', placing the city on high alert for the consulting detective and the Handbag Killer. Kitty Riley became the official reporter for the murder inquiry and, because of this, John found he couldn't read the paper without reading some ridiculous story. This Kitty Riley person had a tendency to 'stretch the truth' to get a scoop. John still hadn't received anything from the pair, either.

The months slowly crept into years…three years. John couldn't believe it had been _three years_, already, without a single word. Granted, his wedding and the birth of his child had taken his mind off of the consulting detective and his pathologist, but they were always at the back of his mind. He remembered his wedding day, how he had looked at Lestrade, his best man, and sighed deeply. Mary had done the same with her maid of honour. 221B received some well-deserved refurbishments. The old experiments disappeared, the flat became clean and tidy and baby stuff littered the floor. He and Mary had recently become the proud parents of a baby girl they named Caitlyn. There was one thing, however, John couldn't bring himself to throw out. The skull, the one that had absorbed so many of Sherlock's ramblings, remained, much to Caitlyn's amusement, in the same place as always. The press had now vanished and the police were close to closing the Handbag Killer case completely. This wasn't exactly _good _news; it was still fresh in everyone's minds.

John hadn't spoken to Lestrade in nearly a year, but it was to his understanding he and his wife had separated, for _some _reason. Also, Anderson had discovered drugs and spiralled into a deep depression after his incompetence during the case came to light. It had been three years since John had cut off contact from Mycroft. Besides, his time was now occupied by his beautiful wife and daughter Caitlyn. Three years…it didn't seem real, anymore.

John woke up for another day, as normal and went to collect the post, absent-mindedly smoothing his finger over his wedding ring as he did so. His girls were still asleep and he didn't want to wake them yet, so he made sure he was quiet. He reached the door and found, unsurprisingly, more interview requests, nursery applications for Caitlyn…same old, same old. There was something new, though, among the official papers. A letter addressed to him directly, printed from a computer and placed in a brown envelope. Something told him this was the long awaited message from Sherlock. He opened it with shaky hands, holding his breath. A letter fluttered to the ground, also printed from a computer. John swallowed as he bent down to pick it up, unfolding it carefully and moving to his chair.

_John, Mary and baby girl Watson,_

_ Mycroft informed me of your situation and I believe congratulations are in order. Of course, there is no way you can get a message back to me so Mycroft will inform me of her name when he can be bothered. I am pleased for the both of you and your new addition._

_I would like you to know, Molly and I are safe and well. There is no way this letter can be intercepted as Mycroft's men dealt with it personally. I cannot guarantee, therefore, that he didn't have a read through first._

_The situation is unchanged there, so it would be difficult for us to return. However, in the near future, I will disclose to your our location._

_Your friends,_

_Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Mrs. Molly Holmes_

_P.S I am sorry we could not attend your nuptials and you ours. We shall meet once more in the future, but for now, let me say, congratulations my dear friend._

John blinked at the letter. He gulped a little, the water in his eyes unmistakeable. **Who would've thought it, eh? **He frowned as he noticed there was something inside the envelope. He felt inside and pulled out a single photo and his heart jumped a little. The photo showed Sherlock standing next to Molly, a tender embrace, and the pair were holding in their arms a young boy, smiling widely. He was around two years old, slightly older than Caitlyn. The boy had Sherlock's curly, black hair and cheekbones and Molly's eyes and nose. And her smile…definitely Molly's smile. John smiled to himself as he turned the photo over and saw the neatly scrawled text.

_It seems you are not the only ones with news, my friend. You are also a good man. We cannot wait for Hamish to meet his godfather…_

A single tear fell from John's eyes as he tucked the picture into his pocket and went into Sherlock's bedroom, which he and Mary had left alone. In three years, neither of them had touched it. They couldn't bring themselves to enter. He sat on Sherlock's bed and thought about all the times he had wished he was living somewhere else or, the very least, deaf. He glanced around and looked to Sherlock's dresser, thick with dust. He smiled and shook his head as he noticed the camera from the France trip. Curiosity got the better of him as he saw a note stood in front of it, yellowing and dusty. He approached carefully and read the note.

_It is advisable that you do not touch, under pain of embarrassment._

Rolling his eyes, John smiled and took the picture out of his pocket, smiling fondly at it. The last thing John had said to his best friend was _you deserve to be happy_ and if this picture was anything to go on, he certainly looked just that. A screeching wail brought John from his thoughts and he placed the picture next to the camera on the dresser. Turning to glance around once more, his eyes swept the room and he left the room, closing the door softly behind him, walking into his bedroom. He found Mary cradling Caitlyn, softly shushing her and rocking her. John smiled once more as he went to sit next to Mary. **I'm glad you've found your family, Sherlock, because I've certainly got mine.**

_There we have it, guys. I really hope you enjoyed this story and thank you all so, so much for reading it! I have enjoyed writing this so much and please review and tell me what you thought! xx Thank you again to everyone, lots of love for all of you. It's goodbye now, but I'm currently working on several new stories so, fingers crossed, they'll be done soon. ;D Bye for now, my preciouses xx_


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